


The Albatross

by SuperSillyAndDorky06



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anything For Love, Attraction, Boats and Ships, Curses, Eventual Smut, F/M, Felicity Smoak Is His Lobster, Gen, Islands, Jealousy, Pirates, Possessive Behavior, Reincarnation, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, Treasure Hunting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Water, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/pseuds/SuperSillyAndDorky06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He rescued her three centuries ago, a notorious pirate with no name but one. He fell in love with her, and her father cursed him for it after killing his own daughter, binding them for eternity with a viscous, inescapable curse. </p><p>In present day, Oliver Queen remembers- all his lives and hers, all their deaths. And he searches for the one object that can break the curse- the object that is part of a famed, lost treasure. He embarks on a journey aboard a ship towards his destination to find the object, and finds her instead. She’s the daughter of the Captain, the same woman he had fallen in love with lifetimes ago, with whom he fell in love in every lifetime.</p><p>Dark forces await. Someone in the crew does not want them to find the treasure.<br/>Can the old lovers find their way back to each other in the midst of the danger that surrounds them?</p><p>Reincarnation/Treasure Hunting AU. Stuff will happen. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mel_Sanfo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Sanfo/gifts), [kim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim/gifts).



> Because you are amazing.
> 
> In the poem, The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner by Coleridge, there is a line : “And instead of the cross, an Albatross around my neck was hung.”
> 
> An Albatross is basically a huge sea bird and symbolic of the burden one has to carry for his crimes. As you well know, I love symbolic titles, especially the one with some sort of mytho-origin (The Phoenix and The Firebird and Free Fall should clue you in).
> 
> This story is set in the present except this first chapter. This chapter is completely flashback, the origin of the story that will continue in present day. Also, this chapter has no names. Keep that in mind. 
> 
> Also, please keep in mind that any legends created are my own and not historically correct. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. I have been wanting to write this one for a really long time. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. 
> 
> Kudos and comments, guys!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poster by the lovely Sarah (cherrychapssstick on Tumblr).

 

* * *

 

 

**Almost Three Hundred Years Ago**

 

He stood looking down upon the deck, feeling the wind change direction slightly as the darkness descended till the horizon. He hoped the wind did not change much for he would have to steer the ship through another route. He did not want to do that after being so close. They had been en route for two moons now, and he was getting more and more impatient to reach the port and see for himself if it was real. They were half a moon away, by his estimate, and he did not want to wait for longer than he absolutely had to. 

"Captain!"

The shout from below caught his attention and he turned to see the carpenter point to the sea. 

"There's a wench in the water," he shouted again. 

Narrowing his eyes, the Captain walked to the edge of the ship and looked down, seeing all the men gather around the railing to look over. There indeed was a wench floating in the water on a log of wood, her dark hair a halo around her face. 

"Get her up," he ordered to the men below and watched as two of them jumped down, and swam to where she was floating almost ethereally. 

"She breathes," one of them called back and the Captain motioned for her to be brought up on the board. After a little maneuvering, they did and he descended the steps to stand beside the wench. 

"Looks like a lady, Captain," his first mate observed. 

Indeed she did. Her gown itself was made from the finest of velvet. He touched her hand and felt the cold, clammy skin. 

"Take her to my chamber and leave her," he ordered the two men who had gotten her up. They exchanged a look but nodded and picked her, scurrying into the bowels of the ship to his huge, spacious chambers. 

"I don't want to seem too forward but why not just leave her, Captain?" the first mate asked as the other men got back to their stations. 

The Captain considered the question and thought upon it. "She may yet fetch a handsome ransom."

"Aye, Captain."

Exchanging orders, he went towards his chambers and entered, dismissing the other two men as they lay her on his huge bed in the center, locking the door behind him and examining her with his eyes coolly. 

He looked down upon the unconscious woman, her body sopping wet and her hair tangled around her face, her skin pale where he suspected she would have color. 

Pursing his mouth, he took out his dagger and cut away through her fine gown, removing it and leaving her in nothing but her thin shift that hardly hid anything from his ravenous eyes. He had been without a woman too long. But since she was unconscious, he put her under the soft blankets, letting her body warm and sat on the stool in the corner, just watching her.

Her dark hair was tangled around her face, wet. Her brows were arched and her form small. Her face itself was young. She was way younger than he was. This woman was not the kind of ladies he associated with. And he had seen, and bedded women way more beautiful than she. Yet, something about her quiet, unassuming face held his eyes upon her form. 

He let her sleep, slowly seeing the color seep into her faded skin and thought of what he would do when she woke, and more importantly, what he would tell his men. Having a woman on board would not sit well with them, for too many reasons to count. 

He waited.

 

* * *

She had woken up, confused and blinked at him with the brightest blue eyes he had seen that had stunned him for a moment. Then she had realized she was practically naked and thrown a fit of rage he had not thought her tiny body had been capable of carrying, picking up the dagger he had used to cut her dress open and wielding it against him. It had surprised him. Very few things surprised him.

 

* * *

She had told him over dinner how she had been returning to her home from visiting her sister when pirates had attacked their ship and she had lost consciousness in the water. Then, she had thanked him for rescuing her and bluntly asked what he intended to do with her. He had chewed and considered. She had fidgeted. And he had told her he would make port at her home first, before continuing on his journey since it was in his way anyways. It had not been. He would have to travel east to reach her home when he was supposed to go west. She had nodded gratefully and that night, in longer than he could remember, he had surprised himself.

 

* * *

He gave her leeway to do as she pleased in the day. He was the one who brought her meals everyday and she dined with him. He was the one who gave her his own clothes to wear since she had none of her own and he had no cloth to let her sew them. He did only admit to himself that he liked the way the clothes hung on her small frame, drowning her. 

 

* * *

She talked a lot. Once she had grown comfortable with him, enough to know that he did not wish to harm her and would deliver her safely to shore, she started talking to him. 

And for the first time since he was a babe, he found himself talking to someone about things he never spoke about. He talked to her of his life and his adventures, sparing her senses the gory details, watching her face light up when he spoke something she liked and see her brows crinkle when he offended her. He offended her a lot. Only to see the flush that took over her face every time he did. And she talked a lot. About the sister she had been visiting, about her mother, everyone. She never spoke of her father and he reasoned she must have been ashamed of something. He would later realize how wrong he had been.

 

 

* * *

 

His men never saw her. He did not want them to. 

One time he remembered coming inside the chamber in a rage at two of his men, who had called her his whore. They had no reason to assume otherwise but he remembered the way his blood had burned and his hands had fisted hearing them talk about her like that. He had gone ahead and knocked their heads together, about to draw out his sword when his first mate had stepped in and stopped him, reminding him that he needed the crew and they could not find any in the middle of the sea. Spitting away, he had strode back to his chamber and slammed the door shut, jarring her from the book she had been reading. 

She could read. That itself had surprised him when she had expressed a desire to see the books in his chest his mother had left him. He had had no time for such things but she did so he had handed them over to her, watching her eyes delight. He had realized he liked getting that look in her eyes. 

But that day, when he had thrown a chair against the chamber wall, splintering it to pieces in his anger, he had expected her to look at him with wide eyes and cower like every woman did before his temper. That was the day she had surprised him yet again, something she had taken to doing frequently.

She had blinked at him for a while before calmly walking up to him and she had taken the his right hand into hers, her thumb soothingly rubbing his wrist, over and over again, till he had felt the anger diminish completely. She had just stood there, barely reaching his neck and in silence she had rubbed where his heart throbbed in his hand, calming him like no one ever had before her. That was the first time she had touched him. 

After that, the little touches had begun. She always touched him on that spot, seeking his beating heart in his blood, sometimes to soothe him, sometimes to soothe herself. She sometimes did it completely clueless, forgetting that she still had a hold of his hand. He had never stopped her on such times, cherishing the feel of her small fingers on his big wrist.

He, on the other hand, had taken a small liberty too. He had seen the way she liked to pull on her ear when she was uncertain or angry. He started doing that for her- rubbing her ear softly to soothe her while she sought his wrist to soothe him. It had become their touch, so much so that he would rub her ear each morning before going up on the deck and she would rub his wrist each night before sleeping. 

 

* * *

She smiled a lot too. And laughed, not like the delicate way ladies did, but boisterously, unashamed of her own pealing sound, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She laughed at him and laughed at herself. 

Her laugh had started making him smile. He had been long enough in her company to not be surprised anymore. 

 

* * *

In all their time together, they never asked each other their names. She told him she did not want to know for if she was ever caught, she did not want to lie about who had rescued her because she was an awful liar, and the authorities had a price on his head. It had been sensible. He had wanted to know but had refrained from asking, at first because she had not, and later, as they grew closer, because he knew he would seek her out if he knew her name. It would be best for both of them to just become fond memories and ships passing in the night.  

 

* * *

A moon had passed since she had come on board. A moon had passed since his men had been told by him not to lay a single finger on her if they wanted their arms attached to their bodies in the morning. A moon had passed since she had made home in his chambers and he had slept on the floor. Why he had done that, he did not understand. He was notorious for being free with the women and the last woman he had had had been before leaving land. By all means, he should have already taken her and been done with her. But he could not. The mere thought of being callous to her grated him. 

For someone who had one of the most dangerous reputations in his business, he certainly had a soft spot right for her. She had weaved her way into his heart with her soft voice and long babbles and pink flushes. Just with her presence. And he had known that it would come to an end the moment they reached shore. He had begun to dread it, his impatience to reach land from before forgotten.

A moon had passed and he had not known who she was yet he knew her better than she did. He knew what made her smile and what made her angry and what made her melt.

A moon had passed and in the morning, they were making port.

A moon had passed and he had realized, on that last night as she rubbed his wrist and he rubbed her ear, that he was not ready. 

 

* * *

She had told him about her home in great detail- about the people, the place, the views, the neighbors. She had told him about her sisters and brothers and she had told him how, since her home was close to shore, she would escape from chores to walk upon the sand and stare at the sea for hours. She had the sea in her blood too. 

So, the moment they had landed, the sun high in the sky, she had stepped off the board and he had stepped off with her, willing to show his face to escort her home safely after telling his men he would return shortly. She had brought out the gentleman out of the pirate in him. They could have taken a carriage but he had suggested they walk the short distance, prolonging his time with her.

And so they were both silent, walking and he felt a heaviness settle in his gut that he was unfamiliar with but one that had been festering inside him for days. It gripped his cold heart and the pang he felt just looking sideways at her was making his stomach drop. But he remained silent and walked with her, not seeing anything but following where she led him, each step making his feet heavier and his pace slower.  

But he did not stop and the distance was covered too soon, too quickly. He saw a small settlement of cottages up ahead the small cliff and his lungs seized momentarily.

He was not ready to let her walk away, never to see her again. And he knew he never would, not if he let her go.

He could not let her go.  

His arm shot out before he could command it not to and he tugged her back, the surprise vivid on her face. He stood, gazing down upon that face, that face that one moon ago had seemed quietly beautiful to him. He had been wrong. Her face had been so radiant, glowing, so bright that it had blinded him to her real beauty. He memorized that face-from the pink in her cheeks to the arch of her brows over bright, intelligent blue eyes to the soft, lush mouth and the pert nose to the dark waves of hair she had tied back with a leather cord, the line of her neck visible to his eyes. His eyes brushed over her features, feeling a kind of desperation he did not understand, had never wanted to.

His other hand coming up of its own accord, his rough fingers brushing over her cheek, feeling the warm, soft skin on the way to her lobe, taking a hold of her ear for the last time, feeling the texture under his rough fingers as he rubbed the flesh.

Her gaze softened on his and her hand came up to hold his wrist, rubbing his pulse with her thumb for the last time and he knew he could not let go. He was not strong enough. In such a short span of time, she had become an inevitability. 

Moisture pooled in her luminous, blue eyes and he looked down into her face, the thought of not seeing her again making him ache so acutely as though a limb had been severed off his body. And that ache made him do what no gentleman would have done. He was no gentleman by any stretch of the imagination.

He slowly, softly, took a hold of her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp of surprise, and kissed her like he had wanted to for so long, like his blood had demanded for so long. 

"Don't go," he muttered softly and she blinked up at him.

"And what will you do if I don't?" she asked equally softly.

He did not have an answer. He did not know what he would do. They could not continue like they had and he could not marry her. But the thought of letting her walk back into her world, never to hear her laugh again, never to hear her curse at him, was not something he could live with either. That was what he should have done. He should have let her go to her house and live her life, marry a man she deserved and become a mother to many children. His gut knotted and a sour taste filled his mouth. 

She smiled softly at him, like she always did, squeezing his wrist. "Thank you for everything."

No. No. No. No.

He had to keep her. He had to keep her just a little longer. Till he was ready. 

He kissed her soft lips again and she let him, tentatively kissing him back before the fever in their bloods dictated their mouths, making them devour each other, meshing together like they were meant to. Kissing her was his sip of elixir. He tasted the little sounds she made, and he knew, right there, that she would not be going. He would do whatever he had to to keep her.

Just as he was about to delve in again, he heard a loud shout coming from his front.

_"How dare you!"_

Pulling back, he quickly shoved her behind him, his hand coming up swiftly to the hilt of his sword when he felt an odd, cold sensation throughout his body. Confused, he tried to take the sword out and felt his blood run cold when he could not move. He could not _move._  Not a little. Nothing. He was frozen, his muscles locking in place completely, that cold sensation still in his body, his heart thumping with the need to fight, to protect her. 

Looking at the group of five people coming towards them with their dark robes flapping with each step, his eyes settled upon the old man in the center, carrying a long, detailed gold stick, as long as his arm, which was pointed at the two of them. The old man had so much hatred in his eyes that it was almost tangible. 

He tried to shift and get the sword out again but his body refused to cooperate, not budging even slightly. Frustration, and something akin to fear, filled him. 

"Father..." he heard her speak softly from behind him and realization dawned upon him like a bucket of water. The old man was her father, the father she had never spoken of, the father who was somehow responsible for rendering him immovable, wielding that gold stick. 

 _"Quiet!"_ the old man roared, coming to a stop in front of them, the other four men, dressed in similar robes stopping behind him. 

Her father's eyes cut to him, the disgust in them acute and he looked back, unable to do anything, and getting frustrated at his inability to move. 

"Albatross," her father began, addressing him and he heard her sharp intake of breath at his common name. His gut clenched knowing the way her mind must be wandering, remembering all the horrific stories about him, having heard all the monstrous tales. He did not want her to think him a monster, even if he were so. Not her. 

"You have ruined my daughter," the old man spit out, enraged.

He opened his mouth but his tongue was stuck, frozen like the rest of his body, and he could not speak. Defending himself was less important than defending her. 

He felt her step out from behind him, her fingers gripping his wrist for strength as she faced the older man. 

"That is untrue, father," she began and the man roared again, livid, his hand striking the side of her face loudly, the gold stick swinging away.

The moment the stick moved, he felt movement rush back to his limbs and he stepped in front of her again, pulling her close to his side, furious at the man for laying a hand on her.

"She has not been touched," he stated firmly to his audience, feeling the slight tremble in her body and her cheek swelling where her father had struck her. His anger swelled as he looked at the mark.

Before he could do anything though, the old man pointed the gold stick at him again, making him completely immobile and stepped forward. The sun shone on his back, the heat intensifying as he looked straight at the old man, hatred filling him.

"You really think me a fool?" he started, keeping the stick pointed at him. "A man like you, of you reputation, keeps my daughter on his ship for days and you wish me to believe she is untouched?"

"Father," she began again.

"You _disgrace!_ " he grit out at her. "Do not call me your father!"

"He rescued me. He did not touch me. Please let him go," she begged and he felt his teeth grind, wanting to stop her and take her back to his ship, away from the people who loathed her so, who rendered her to grovel for him. She deserved better.

The old man did not reply but instead gazed back at her in sudden silence. The quiet between the two only made him look closely at them, mainly at her.

He saw understanding dawn upon her face and her eyes widen at whatever she read in her father's face and she started to shake her head frantically at him, paling.

"No, father!" she shouted, rushing forward a step. "Please. Do not. I beg of you. Please."

He did not understand as he stood rooted to the spot but the palpable fear in her voice made chills run over his body, her grip on his wrist almost painful now.

Turning his gaze back to the old man, he saw his wrinkled, leathery face blank of all expression before he raised his cold, dark eyes to her. He saw the old man's eyes move to the place where she was gripping him, then at his face, the chill in his blood intensifying at the look in his eyes.

"You have disgraced me, daughter," her father spoke in a firm, stoic voice. "Now bear the consequences of your actions."

He saw the old man raise his other hand, palm out, towards her and suddenly, he felt her grip on his wrist go lax. He swung his gaze to her, his heart beating faster and faster, as he saw her knees give away, her body collapsing on the rocky ground, immovable like him, in a mass of limbs with no movement but just blinking up at him.

His pulse was pounding and blood rushing to his ears as he stood looking down, his gaze locked on hers, everything inside him trying to reach for her but unable to even twitch.

The old man turned to him then, his eyes hard and lips pursed, his wrinkled skin tanned and impenetrable.

"I will let her go painlessly for she was coerced, but you," her father spoke, pointing his gold stick at the wrist she had been holding. "You vile monster, you are going to suffer for your deeds. You are going to suffer endlessly and feel this pain for as long as you will live, every time that you will live."

His heart pounding, he saw through his eyes as the gold stick inched forward, getting closer and closer to his skin, the man chanting something in a different language, his eyes closed and head thrown back, his voice getting louder and louder. He saw that gold come closer and closer and he could feel it in his bones that the moment it touched, it would reign destruction. 

His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly and inevitably, the gold touched his wrist, exactly where her thumb had been, and the breath left his body in a rush, his knees crumpling, making him fall to the rocky ground hard on his side. He still could not move.

After a moment of chanting, the old man touched the stick to his heart as he lay then turned away. He heard them leave, their footsteps fading away as his eyes went to her.

She blinked at him, her face slowly paling as the sun beat on their backs and the only sounds those of waves crashing against the rocks, hitting them then retreating.

Swallowing down his parched throat, he just started to speak, at least tried to, to alleviate the fear he saw in her gaze, the fear that was more a punch in the gut to him than anything else that had happened, when the spot on his wrist slowly started to grow uncomfortable, the skin on the spot getting mottled, turning hotter, before it began to burn from the inside out. Searing pain consumed him as the inside out burn assaulted his body, inflaming his entire body, the sun that had been warm a moment ago becoming a furnace that blazed his blood. He was burning alive, the scream from the pain trapped in his throat, feeling his skin slowly char under the sun.

His pained eyes found hers just in time to see a tear trickle down into her hair. He saw her inhale deeply and push herself to a crawl, reaching for him.

His skin was completely burnt now, and he knew whatever was happening to him would not be hasty. He would not die quickly.

The fire burned him from the inside, and he felt a sharp pain shoot up both his sides, his legs already feeling severed. Everything was pain. And burn. Raw flesh. Agony.

He saw through his agonized eyes as she managed to move forward slightly and extended her hand, trying to reach for his, her entire body straining and he just lay there on his side, his arm out, burning alive.

The tears never left her eyes. The mouth he had kissed moments ago trembling as she strained, her whole body shaking. That mouth had been his one slice of heaven. Only one.

He did not dare blink lest he miss one movement from her, his own mouth starting to shake as the inevitability of what was happening thrust upon him.

Her fingers passed his, and he watched, every muscle cringing in silent agony as she slowly touched her fingers to his wrist. His wrist.

A tear escaped his own eyes as she watched him, keeping a hold of that burning flesh, giving him another glimpse of heaven in the fires of his hell.

He should never have brought her here. He should have taken her with him and made her his. He should have kissed her every moment and every chance he had gotten and let go of. He should have told her so many things.

But now he could not. Now he could only watch as she struggled for breaths, gasping silently and watch as her eyes shut close. Her eyes closed and brute desperation kicked inside him. No. No. _No._  He could not accept it. This was never supposed to be her end. She was supposed to live a happy life. She was supposed to read books and laugh and soothe. Her eyes were not supposed to close.

The desperation in him managed to make his wrist just twitch slightly, but enough that she opened her eyes. She blinked once, softly, like she did when she just woke up in the morning and kept her gaze on him. And he watched, his jaw trembling and tears threatening to burst, slowly, as the life seeped out of her face, the light finally leaving her eyes with one last tear.

His insides tore open and he opened his mouth on a silent scream that wouldn't come, his chest howling in pain that was not from the burns, tears leaving him as he just looked at her open eyes, dead eyes. She did not deserve this. She had never deserved this.

He howled in the hollow of his heart, everything inside him cracking and shattering to pieces.

And he lay there on his side, slowly burning to his death, the scent of burning flesh permeating the air around him, his own body his inferno.

He lay there on his side, fading away in torment, unable to writhe or scream or groan in pain.

He lay there on his side as the sun sank away in the sky and darkness descended but the burn did not leave his flesh, charring it to the rock.

He lay on his side, going through that agony, anchoring himself to her eyes that stared blankly at him, the tears dried on her face.  

He lay there on his side, feeling the pain become white noise, the pain become tolerable, his flesh growing numb as he felt the life seep out of him too, his eyes finally letting go of hers, nothing left for him anymore. 

And till his last breath, he felt her fingers, still wrapped around his wrist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you thought? I'd love some feedback.
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you liked this. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on
> 
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	2. Sails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I am back on this story and I apologize for making you wait so long. The response to the first chapter floored me. Completely. I had had no idea how excited you would be with this. So, thank you so much! 
> 
> ALSO : THIS STORY WILL BE UPDATED WEEKLY EVERY TUESDAY. 
> 
> Since, i finally settled on a schedule, here it is. Every Tuesday is The Albatross. I will announce the others as I update them. 
> 
> (Yes, The Firebird is coming too.)
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you! :)
> 
> Happy reading!!!

 

_He smelled burning flesh._

_The fire was burning him. Consuming him. Purging him. From the inside._

_He could feel his skin set ablaze right underneath, feel the flesh mottling as his veins melted, one after the other, smell the pungent smell replacing the soft smell of fresh flowers that had been surrounding him._

_He saw the dagger sticking out of her heart as she lay in a pool of her own blood, and like every other time, he had failed. And he welcomed death, even this painful death, to be a reprieve from the agony burning in his soul._

_And watching the blood leave her lifeless body, feeling it leave his own, he closed his eyes._

 

                                                                     ----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Oliver jerked awake as the dream faded, feeling the residue of the burn he lived through every single night lay dormant beneath his skin, the fever in his flesh making him sweat profusely, drenching his sheets. He swore as he pushed them away, seeing the moonlight pierce in the windows and walked to the bathroom, naked. Stopping in front of the sink, he splashed the ice cold water on his face, and held his wrists under the running liquid, trying to regulate his breathing and calm down his pounding heart, his hands trembling slightly from the ordeal.

This had happened for every night of his life, as far as he could remember. Every night he would wake up, burning from the inside, dreaming of death- of a beautiful, young woman and his own. For a young boy in an orphanage, he had become the butt of jokes, because of the way he groaned in pain in his sleep and sweat and convulsed. For that young orphaned boy, it had been impossible to converge his dreams with his own knowledge of reality. He became scared of going to sleep, knowing for certain the horror he would not just see, but live in those moments. But he had just been a boy, and sleep could only be avoided for so long.

As he grew up, the dreams became more intense, more grotesque. Sometimes they were repeated. Sometimes, they were not. But one thing that never changed in the dream was the woman. She was always the same. And she always died, in front of him, in different ways. Sometimes she would just stop breathing, sometimes it would be a gun-shot, sometimes it would be a stab wound. One time, it was his tied up body looking at her as another man choked the life out of her. She always died, but her eyes, even as she took her last breath, never left his. Not till the last moment. And he never broke the gaze. Not till his very last.

Oliver did not understand the profound emotion he felt for the woman in every dream, the profound emotion he felt for her deep in his bones even as he washed his face. He did not understand it, but he had learned long ago that he did not need to. 

When he had left the orphanage, on his first night alone in the world at just fifteen years of age, he had fucked a woman for the first time.

He grimaced slightly, remembering the first time he had had sex and the first time he had realized the kind of pain he would feel during it. Oh, it was supremely pleasurable, no doubt. But the entire time Oliver held a woman, any woman, his skin burned, like it did in his dreams. That burn had become a constant in his life now. A constant demon that lived in his flesh.

It was actually a curse.

And Oliver had realized, not long after he started being on his own, that his dreams were not mere dreams, that his burning skin was not a disease. They were his memories. It was his curse. At 18, he had dreamed a new dream for the first time, the dream of the woman leaving for her home and her enraged father cursing him. He had dreamed and realized why he was the way he was, and how it had all begun. And he had begun looking for answers, for ways out of the curse that had haunted him for centuries, and haunted him every night.

Staring back at his reflection, a 28 year old man, Oliver saw his scruffy face, his scarred body, and closed his eyes.

After a decade of searching and searching and searching, he was finally close to an answer. After a decade since realizing his curse, Oliver had a lead to break it.

His eyes opened and he looked back at his tanned skin and blue eyes, a face that women had deemed handsome. His mouth twisted wryly. They wouldn't call him handsome if they knew what lived inside.

Shaking his head at himself, he quickly took a cold shower, enjoying the way the water cascaded over his searing flesh and touched the burn on his back. One night when he had been young, he had been drugged to sleep due to an illness and could not wake up in time from his dream. But when he did wake up, it was to feel the flesh on his waist completely burned and mottled and raised, and he had realized that he could burn in his sleep if he did not stop it in time. Some curse he had. 

Going back out to the motel bedroom, he pulled out a pair of cargo pants and a white t-shirt from his bag and dressed quickly, lacing up his work boots and pulling a cap on his head just as dawn broke across the sky outside, streaking it in flames that lived right inside him, being kindled with every breath he took.

But this day was important. This day was everything. This day was the day he had been waiting for for years and Oliver could not help but feel a concoction of both anxiety and anticipation as he slung the bag over his broad shoulders and checked everything inside.

His eyes fell on the wrist band on the drawer and he chided himself for forgetting. Picking up the band, he put it on his right wrist, covering up the finger-shaped soft marks on his skin. He had always been confounded by those particular marks as a boy, never understanding why he had them. The boys in the orphanage had teased him about having a ghost girl holding his wrist and that's why the marks were so soft.

They had had no idea how right they had been. The night Oliver had had the dream of the curse, the night he had seen her die for the first time by the curse, he had felt her fingers on his wrist as she let go. Oliver had woken up in the morning, shaken by the intensity of their connection, and he had bought himself a wrist band. The mark of her flesh on his, the mark which had been carried through centuries, had become something very, very private to him that day, something he did not share with anyone, something that was only for him.

She, in whatever capacity he had her, was only for him. 

Inhaling deeply, he touched his wrist over the band, closing his eyes, remembering how he hated anybody touching him there. His first serious fist fight had been over it, when a guy had pulled him by the wrist and something horrifying had just come over him and he had pounded the man to an inch of his life. He _hated_ anyone touching him there. 

Brushing aside his thoughts, he slung his bag over his shoulder again and left the motel room, taking the stairs down two at a time, exited into the lot and went towards his rental.

Getting inside, he reversed the black Mustang out of the lot and headed towards the port.

Over the years, he had discovered his parents had left him a hefty amount of money that had been waiting for him to mature. Upon receiving it, he had invested it in the right places and made himself a good nest egg for a rainy day, but since it was just him, and his priorities were something else, he had never had the chance to spend much. Except for the university professor he had hired, Walter Steele, for the research. Mr. Steele specialized in history, particularly pertaining to lost treasures and symbols. Hiring him for the kind of research Oliver had wanted had been the best decision Oliver had made. The tall, intelligent man was the epitome of discretion and never asked Oliver questions that he could not answer. 

After two years of intensive research, Oliver had a few answers and a hundred more questions. Based upon whatever information Oliver had provided, Mr. Steele had told him many things. One had been about the Legend of the Albatross. According to legend, as Mr. Steele had told Oliver in the beginning, Albatross had been the popular name of one of the most notorious pirates on this side of the world. The man had killed and looted left, right and center. But on a summer almost three hundred years ago, after making port on an island somewhere off the Gulf of Mexico, the man had disappeared with a woman that his crew had said had lived with him. The legends say she had been an enchantress and he had been bewitched, lured to his demise by her wickedness. Soon after, a mysterious flood had submerged most of the island, killing all of its inhabitants. The island was deemed lost now, and it was said that the spirit of Albatross keeps people from finding it. 

Oliver had almost scoffed at that one, but barely restrained himself. But that day, he had understood, that legends were built around some grain of truth. His disappearance all those years ago with her had inspired this one. And so, with slight trepidation, he had asked Mr. Steele about curses and how one could break them. His wife, Mrs. Lisa Steele, had become involved at that point. She was a beautiful, tall woman, only slightly younger than her husband but with warm, kind and sharp eyes, who specialized in ancient history, and ancient curses were of particular interest to her. 

 

Oliver remembered that night like it was yesterday as he drove.

Lisa Steele had taken one long look at Oliver, pouring him some coffee as Walter had sat beside her.

"What kind of curses are you referring to, Mr. Queen?" 

Oliver had looked at her carefully, taking his time in his scrutiny, and tentatively elaborated, roughly what he had known of the curse. She had let him take his time, scrutinizing him herself with intelligent brown eyes.     

And then she had smiled slightly, nodding at him.   

"Every curse is bound by something, Mr. Queen," she had said, in her thick accent while twisting a ring on her long index finger. "We call such things Anchors. It is unclear how these curses get attached to these Anchors, but it cannot be denied that our world is far more complex than we deem to understand." 

Oliver had sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling so, so tired but knowing it had only just begun. "And how can curses be broken?" he had asked quietly.

Mrs. Steele's gaze had gone to his wrist then, at the exact spot where the band had been covering it. She had looked long and hard, before gazing back at him with eyes that had seen way too much for his comfort. 

"It is said that if you destroy the Anchor and you shall destroy the curse."

Oliver had pondered that for a few minutes before asking the one question that had been disturbing him.

"How does someone find the Anchor?"

Getting up from the table, Mrs. Steele had taken out a thick book bound in leather before opening it and perusing for long minutes. She had read something softly, before looking up at Oliver and addressing him. 

"The Anchor is always something that was present in the place when the curse was cast," she said. "It is generally an object of great importance to the person who cast the curse and it must be pointed to the one who received the curse."

The words had haunted Oliver. 

And he had wracked his brain, every time he had seen the dream and he had realized what the anchor was. The gold stick that had incapacitated him.

He had gotten a sketch artist to draw out every detail of the stick he remembered. From the way it curved right at the top to the detailed, intricate work on its body to the grooves where the man had held it. The long stick which had been his demise. And hers. 

Once the sketch was done, he had taken it to the Steeles and let them research upon it to their heart's content.

It had taken two years. Two years to find some answers. Two years in which every night the burn only got worse and his pain only more intense.

Two years that were everything, if he looked at it one way, and nothing if he looked at it another.

But last week, Walter had called him at night and told him they'd made a break-through.

The gold stick, last seen on that island, was submerged there when the flood had hit, along with all of the treasures on the land, and Albatross' own booty, if legends were to be believed. The island, now called _Arcanum_ in historical circles, was a legend itself. Walter had told Oliver that after the flood, no one had ever found the island and hence, it was assumed to be underwater.

"But?" Oliver had asked, knowing there was more to the story.

"But mysterious things have happened," Walter had said quietly, intriguing Oliver.

"What sort of things?"

"Well," Walter had said, "it was assumed until very recently that the island was submerged, right? But recently, some pilots have reported sighting the island."

"What is mysterious about it?" Oliver had asked, confused.

Walter had paused. "The same pilots went back. But they did not find the island. Only the sea." 

Oliver had rubbed his temples, knowing in his heart that this had been it. "And the treasure?"

"Well, we can only speculate that it is on the island. All of it, since the flood took it down before any expeditions, very soon after Albatross made port there. Perhaps, he was cursed."

"Perhaps," Oliver said gravely at the remark. "So, there must be people looking for that treasure, yes?"

"From what I hear, yes."

"Anyone worth investing in?" Oliver had asked. 

Walter had really done his research, and he got back to Oliver with the name of two ships that were going to start the expedition to _Arcanum_ within a few weeks. 

Oliver had muttered his heartfelt thanks and cut the call, musing about his next course of action. 

He had known that he had to go on the expedition. And he had not wanted attention to himself. 

So, he had researched the two ships and their captains, and within a day, he had decided to go aboard _The_   _Mysticus_ as a part of the crew, because not only did the ship have a more experienced captain, but they also were to have professional people on the deck for their expertise. Plus, Oliver somehow had known in his gut that it had been the right ship. Hence, he had called the captain, spoken to him about joining in while offering to invest in the trip if they could get started as soon as possible, and the older man, while baffled, had accepted him to be on the deck.

As Oliver saw the port come ahead now, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the sea and the moisture in the air as the sun slowly came up. Picking up his bag, he pulled the cap over his head and added sunglasses, masking his eyes from the people who had started bustling in the area, and made his way to the end of the line. 

_The Mysticus._

She was a good ship, from the looks of her. Standing long and tall, she was painted in white and blue, with a huge open deck and high levels of boards for operating it. _The Mysticus_  was painted near the back in a stylish cursive in deep blue, right after which small windows to the cabins underneath the deck began. 

He stood staring at the ship, unable to believe that after so long, searching so much, he was actually going to embark on this journey. His skin burned slightly with the thought and he closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his mouth. 

"Oliver Queen?"

Oliver opened his eyes and swung his gaze to the tall, broad, mocha-skinned man making his way to him. He eyed the man warily, judging from his walk that he had army training, but unable to judge if he was a threat or not. 

"Who's asking?" he asked quietly. 

The man, slightly taller than Oliver and bigger, came to a stop before him but Oliver gazed back evenly, knowing that he could take him on and take him well if the situation warranted it.

The man offered his hand. "John Diggle. I am the co-captain of the ship."

Oliver took his hand, liking the firm grip he had. A handshake could tell a lot about a person's character, and Oliver decided, judging from the shake, that John Diggle was a man to have in his corner.

"Mr. Diggle," Oliver nodded.

The man smirked slightly. "Call me Digg. The captain asked me to show you aboard."

Oliver nodded again. "Thank you. Please call me Oliver."

Digg began climbing the ramp leading to the deck and Oliver followed, keeping himself vigil and his eyes on the surroundings. 

"So, why did you want to come last minute?" Digg asked, his tone curious and voice heavy.

Oliver shrugged even though the man couldn't see him. "I am a bored, rich guy. This seemed better than skiing."

Digg cast him a look that clearly showed his skepticism and Oliver just shrugged again. Keeping this quiet was the way it had to be done. Nobody could know how invested he truly was in the mission and the treasure. At least not until later. 

The deck came into view and Oliver saw two men, one almost ten years younger than him and one almost ten years older than him, talking to a blond woman of his age. Digg walked ahead and they grew quiet, eyeing Oliver with wariness and interest. 

"This is Oliver Queen, everyone," Digg began making the introduction.

He pointed to the younger man in the red hoodie. "This is Roy Harper. He takes care of the staff and the boys."

Oliver shook his hand. Really firm grip. Huh. This Roy had some kind of a chip on his shoulder evidently.

The older man with the eye-patch and the beard took his hand next, a sneer curling his mouth. 

"Slade Wilson," the man introduced himself in an Australian accent. "I take care of whatever needs taking care of, kid."

Oliver's eyes narrowed behind his glasses at the obvious threat in his tone but he simply nodded, filing it away for later. Now was not the time. 

Digg broke his thoughts and introduced the smirking woman in shorts and a tank top who was shamelessly looking him up and down.   

"This is Sara Lance," Digg said. "She is the archaeologist."

Sara barely reached his shoulder but shook his hand firmly. "I also specialize in kicking asses, don't leave that off the description, Digg." She turned to him, still smirking. "So, you are the sugar daddy for this trip," she said it more as a statement than a question. 

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her description. "I am."

Letting go of her hand, he looked around and turned to Digg. "Where is the rest of the crew?"

"They are on their way. We'll set sail in an hour," he replied. 

Oliver nodded as Slade Wilson left to go inside and Roy and Sara exchanged looks before Sara spoke. 

"So where are you from, Oliver?"

Her manner was confident and flirty but not uncomfortable for some reason, and Oliver realized that getting her on friendly terms might actually help him. She was the archaeologist, after all. 

Oliver replied quietly with practiced ease. "Starling City."

Sara nodded and Roy measured him. "Why the last minute interest?"

Oliver forced a smile on his face. "I'm a spontaneous guy."

Roy's face still showed his mistrust and Oliver had to hand it to the kid's instincts at least.

Sara nudged him. "I hope you know there are sharks in those seas."

He had better things than sharks to worry about but he shrugged. "At least it'd be interesting."

Sara grinned but her eyes were trying to place him somewhere in her head. Just as she opened her mouth to talk, a loud crash from behind them startled them.  

Oliver turned quickly just as Sara laughed. "Relax, big boy," her lazy drawl came from behind him. "It's just my klutzy best friend. She always trips over the ropes."

Oliver saw a number of new arrivals on the deck but his eyes went to the woman sprawled over the wooden floorboards, slowly getting on her hands and knees and swearing under her breath. She hunched over, picking up some wires and technical equipment and putting them in a bag, muttering, almost ten feet from him.

Sighing, he moved in her direction along with Roy to help her up. He was three feet almost when every muscle in his body froze. His heart started pounding as her scent reached him, his eyes closing upon the memory of that scent, the scent he knew better than his own name, the scent he smelled every night in his dreams, the scent which faded away with his sleep.

He wasn't sleeping now, and his skin burned slowly as he took in the blonde waves covering her back. He frowned, trying to control his racing heart.

Her hair had always been dark. Maybe, he was mistaken. Maybe, the curse had made him hallucinate and was actually driving him to madness. Lord knew he had been on the brink for a long time.

But her frame was the same. The set of the shoulders and the hands and the legs. Absolutely the same. He had memorized every nook and cranny over the nights, but her hair was not dark.

"Smoaky," Sara shouted from beside him and the woman looked up in a graceful movement, her hair cascading down her back, right into his eyes.

His heart stopped.

It was _her._    

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	3. Winds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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_"No!" he cried out roughly, feeling his voice scrape against his hoarse throat, his hands pressing upon the gaping hole in her stomach._

_The bleeding did not stop. And the more she bled, the more the flames licked over his skin._

_He felt his hands slip in the blood, and he watched her, kept his eyes on her, urged her to live._

_"Look at me," he spoke, ignoring the fire licking into his skin. "Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me!"_

_She smiled a little at that, and her hand raised, coming into contact with his burning skin, cupping his cheek, trying to reassure him somehow, as she blinked slowly at him, life slowly bleeding from her, her mouth opened on a word that refused to leave her._

_He pressed harder on her wound, desperation to keep her there with him, to anchor her to him somehow clinging to his entire being._

_He felt her hand drop and come to lay on his, her strength dwindling, her fingers coming to rest on his pulse, and she smiled softly at him. She blinked again and he cried harder, feeling the tears stream down his face, unable to accept this._

_"Please don't leave me," he sobbed and she pressed her fingers to his flesh one more time, just whispering a soft "Never" before closing her eyes._

_Sobs tore from his frame as he hunched over her, screaming in the agony, thankful of the flames that slowly engulfed him._

 

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Oliver could count on his hands the number of times he had been rendered speechless in this life. 

He could count on one hand how many of those times had absolutely nothing to do with his dreams but to do with his reality. 

But he had never, in his very surreal life, seen the lines between his reality and dreams blur and fade to nothingness the way he did now. 

He had known the moment he had caught her scent that it had been her. Deep in his bones, he had known. But he had not been ready to gaze into those familiar blue eyes and have the truth slap him in the face. He had waited, unknowingly, for his entire life , for lifetimes, to meet her, and now that he stood towering over her hunched frame on the board, a knot settled in his gut- a knot which refused to budge. 

She looked up at him, for that one moment suspended in time, streaking across their many lives and deaths together, and blinked. 

His senses were aware of Sara and Roy coming forward. He knew the polite thing would be to help her up. But for the life of him, he could not move. He could not _breathe._

And just as his eyes never left hers, hers didn't leave his. Those blue, beautiful orbs that he was so familiar with, lighting up, not in recognition, but fascination and appreciation. He had become, over the years, familiar with the kind of appreciation he was seeing in her gaze, but the recognition he was searching for, for long moments, did not come. It was clear to him, watching her watch him, that she did not remember. She didn't remember at all. 

Relief flooded him, right on the tails of disappointment. Relief that she had been spared the knowledge of their history, that her innocence had somehow not been tainted by the blackness that was him. Disappointment that even after all this time, he was, in fact, still alone, as he was cursed to be. 

But even knowing that, he could not remove his gaze from hers. He could not look away when Sara stepped into his periphery and smirked or when Roy picked up the equipment and left to keep it somewhere. He did not look away, his gaze tangled with hers in a dance she may not remember but she still knew. 

She stood up slowly, the grace in her movements at odd with her clumsiness of moments ago, and Oliver looked at her properly for the first time. She wore a bright yellow tank top with jeans shorts and sneakers, her frame short, barely reaching his shoulder, but still so perfect, filled in all the right places; her bright, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and big, rectangular glasses framing her beautiful eyes. Except for the hair, which he guessed she had dyed, she was exactly the same. Exactly. From the size of her fingers to her wide hips that he had always loved to her graceful neck- same. 

Sara's voice broke him out of his trance-like state and he looked at the other woman briefly before moving his eyes back to her, drinking up the sight of her like a man famished of thirst. 

"Fell, meet Oliver Queen," Sara began, pointing to him with a smirk. "He is the last minute sponsor for the trip. Sugar daddy," she added with a wink.

She nodded at Sara's word, giving him a wide, full smile of her pink lips, extending her small hand forward, tipped with bright blue nails. 

Oliver looked down at her extended hand, his heart thundering, his body suddenly engulfed in simmering flames all over. He barely contained his flinch of pain, knowing he couldn't shake her hand or she would feel his burn, feel his temperature and questions would arise. He could not afford those questions.

He swallowed slightly and forced a smile onto his face, that he was pretty sure did not reach his eyes.

"I apologize, but I have sweaty palms."

He saw her smile dim a little, and felt his heart sink upon seeing that. But she caught herself, lowering her hand back to her side and spoke for the first time, shuffling slightly on her feet. 

"That's alright. Sweaty palms can be really gross. Not that I am calling your palms gross. In fact, they look very big. And nice. Yes, you have really nice hands. And a really nice face. Which I should not be commenting on this early when you don't even know my name, right?"

Sara nudged her with her elbow and a smirk, but Oliver's heart was racing. This was uncanny. It was not possible how uncanny this was. Not only was her voice almost the same, she sounded same too. Her manner of speaking, her gesturing, her blinking when she spoke too much, catching herself at the last minute- it was all the same and all so uncanny it shook him.

Completely unaware of the turmoil roaring inside him, she went on with a small smile. "I'm Felicity Smoak, the computer expert-cum-marine archaeologist for this trip."

Felicity Smoak. 

Felicity. 

He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the name he finally had, rolling it a hundred ways in his mind, feeling a slight sliver of joy pass through him for the first time in a _long_ time. He finally had her name. 

A name which meant happiness. 

His mouth curled slightly. Universe definitely had a screwed up sense of humor where he was concerned. 

"Nice to meet you," he spoke, his voice coming out rougher than he had thought it would. Clearing his throat, he nodded politely before taking a deliberate step back, seeing the confusion in her gaze. But he needed a step back. He needed to process this.

He had never, in his wildest daydreams, thought he would see her again, that too on this ship. And her being on board complicated things, not only for him, but for her. She might not remember it but he did. He knew. 

Now that they had met, it was only a matter of time before she died, just as he would. And he could not let that happen. Not this time. Not after getting so close to finally breaking the curse. He was not sure he could endure this for another life. And she could not die. Not again. Never again.  

So, he nodded to both Sara and her, to Felicity, and left them both to go find Roy and his new cabin, feeling the stares of the two women all the way to the door, unable to believe he had found her. 

Which meant time was running out for both of them.

 

                                         --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

His cabin was actually not at all like what he had thought it would be, and that was a good thing. Apparently, being the cash source implied getting good living area. Not that it mattered much to Oliver. He had slept nights in places no one could deem of, and risen up. The one thing he valued, more that anything, wherever he lived, was his own space. This one definitely had that.

It was spacious, for one. And very tasteful. Not that he was picky, but knowing his cabin was not like the ones he had generally seen did give him some comfort. It was done in warm brown and cream, with a soft layer of carpet and short drapes over the two small, high windows in the room. There was a regular sized double bed in one corner, with two blankets and fresh sheets. A sturdy wooden desk with a chair sat opposite to it. The center of the cabin was empty and there was only one small dresser with a mirror and a regular cupboard in the room. While tasteful, it was functional. There was a door on the east side which lead to his private bathroom and one on the west which lead to the corridor outside. And he was slightly away from the other cabins, just like Oliver preferred.

When Roy had brought him down the stairs from the deck and shown him the different rooms and finally, the cabin the Captain had told the crew was assigned to him, he had looked up at Oliver with distrustful eyes that had told Oliver very clearly that he would be under watch, and then he had left. Oliver had huffed and gotten to unpacking what little he had brought with him, putting the clothes in the cupboard and hanging some, and then he had taken out his laptop and checked on his investments, caught up on some work. 

He sat there on the chair now, his laptop shut on his desk, smiling bleakly at how absolutely lonely his life was. He had no one to call and tell how he was doing, no one to message. He had never wanted someone that way.

But he had found her. Felicity.

He could already feel himself become more and more fascinated with her name.

"Felicity," he spoke out softly, for the first time, in the quiet of the room, testing the word on his tongue.

It felt perfect.

Shaking his head at himself, he realized he'd have to keep things in check. Keep himself in check. Every time they had gotten closer previously, they had died. He'd have to make sure not to get close to her. At least not until the curse was broken.

Inhaling deeply, he pushed back his chair and got up, looking at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser, before ditching the cap and the glasses in the room and locking the door behind him as he went upstairs. 

They had set sail a few hours ago, a few hours in which land had vanished behind them and all there was, in its glorious vastness, was the sea. Deep blue sea. 

There was a flurry of activity on the deck, and Oliver just leaned against the doorjamb, observing silently, making decisions about the people he saw in his head. His instincts were pretty good, on point, from his years of experience.  

The crew was moving things and equipment around, settling themselves in. Roy stood in a black t-shirt, guiding some of the guys with what to put where, and laboring himself. Watching him, Oliver realized he was actually a good kid. Hard working. With a mile wide chip. 

He moved his eyes to the left, towards where Slade Wilson seemed to be in an argument with a tall, strange woman, one he had never seen before, and Digg was shaking his head, obviously trying to break the fight. 

There were two other men, tall and strong, who looked like they were someone important, on the deck.  Sara was talking with the two of them, rolling her eyes but being watchful. As happy-go-lucky as she seemed, Sara had an edge to her that Oliver recognized well. It was the edge of self-preservation. 

Eyes moving, he took in the other people on the deck slowly, taking his time, before finally coming to rest on her. 

Felicity. 

She was holding a tablet in her hand, looking very sincerely at whatever was on the screen, her brows furrowed and teeth gnawing on her lip. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, illuminating her even more, and she sighed, putting the tablet aside and taking out a hair tie from her shorts pocket. And Oliver watched, feeling like a voyeur, even though she was in public, as she brushed her hair with her fingers repeatedly, trying to tame them into submission, her arms raised, pulling her tank top a little up, only to tease him with a glimpse of her midriff. 

Heart pounding, a different kind of fire running through his veins, he saw her twist her hair into a messy bun and set it high on her head, exposing the nape of her neck to the oceanic wind. 

She cracked her neck to a side in an unconscious movement before, suddenly, her eyes came to him, as though she sensed him watching her, and he saw her freeze mid-movement, holding his gaze. Breathing in a heavy breath, heart beating faster than it had for a long time, Oliver just watched her, knowing he shouldn't, knowing he was probably scaring her with this intensity between them, but she did not look the slightest bit uncomfortable. She looked curious. Fascinated. Aroused. 

They held each other's gazes, locked together for long minutes, unaware of the full deck and people bustling about doing their chores, only aware of each other for those long minutes. 

And then, Oliver watched as his body hummed with awareness, she bit her lip.  

Oliver closed his eyes, clenching his fists to hang onto his control and not move a single muscle. He didn't know whether she did it deliberately or completely unconsciously like she did everything else, but he felt the burn inside him blaze to life suddenly, as though in punishment for taking this one brief moment of stolen pleasure. Sweat broke out over his skin from the inside heat. Grimacing, he opened his eyes to find her watching him curiously, before Sara came to talk to her.

Felicity, though she was speaking with Sara, frequently glanced at him, like she could not help herself either. He knew the feeling.

 

Which was exactly why he could not engage in staring matches like this again. He had to keep his distance.

Inhaling deeply, Oliver straightened from where he was leaning and walked towards Digg, wanting to meet the Captain and have a clear, face-to-face discussion with him about what he wanted from the treasure when they found it. There was no if about it. Only a when.

Digg looked at Oliver as he approached and excused himself from Slade and the woman, coming forward with a rueful smile.

"We aren't an hour in and already there are issues," the man sighed, shaking his head.

Oliver jerked his head towards the woman who stood with Slade, feeling something completely off about her. "Who is she?"

"Isabel Rochev," Digg sighed again. "She was the first and only investor in the trip before you. And like you, she insisted on accompanying us."

Oliver frowned at that, taking in the tall, brunette woman, measuring her. "What's her interest in this?"

He saw Digg raise his eyebrows before he smirked slightly. "Bored rich people, I guess. Like you?"

Oliver turned his eyes to the man, holding his gaze for a long moment before changing the subject completely. "Where is the Captain? I think it's time I met him."

Digg's too knowing dark eyes looked at Oliver for a beat before he shook his head. "He is getting settled and going over some details for now, I think. You will see him at dinner this evening. And you can meet him privately after."

Taking a deep breath, Oliver nodded. "Alright. What can I do to help?"

Digg raised his eyebrows again, amused, and folded his arms across his chest. "A self-proclaimed rich, bored boy like yourself?"

The man just won't quit without calling him on his shit. Oliver, weirdly, kind of respected that. He kept his face blank. 

"As you said, I am bored. And a quick learner. So?"

Digg shook his head once again and pointed behind Oliver. "Those two have a lot of equipment to put down in the cabin they are turning into their office. You can help them with the heavy lifting if you like."

Oliver glanced behind him to see Sara and Felicity hauling two laptops and some wires towards the stairs, and while the urge to keep his distance remained, he knew he was going to help them out. Exhaling softly, he nodded to Digg and strode towards them, watching, in fascination, as Felicity stiffened first, as though sensing him, and turned, her blue eyes behind glasses puzzled to see him approaching them. Sara followed with a smile. 

"Hey, big boy," she smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. "Whatcha up to?"

Oliver looked around the floorboard, and leaned down, picking up a heavy, weird looking machine whose purpose he had no idea of, with ease, seeing their eyes widen slightly at the ease he lifted it with, and shrugged. "Being a big boy and helping you girls move things faster."

"Why, thank you," Sara smiled genuinely at him for the first time and walked ahead. 

Oliver looked at Felicity, who was observing him quietly with slightly furrowed brows, and gestured for her to precede him. 

Shaking herself out of some thought, she ducked her head, flushing slightly, and went ahead, giving him a tantalizing view of her back. 

"So you are both archaeologists?" Oliver asked, genuinely curious. 

They slowly trudged down the stairs, and Sara spoke from up ahead. "Sort of. I specialize in ruins and ground stuff while Fell is into underwater stuff."

Sara stopped suddenly, looking back at him, making Felicity stop as well. 

"How much do you know about _Arcanum?"_  


More than she would ever know. Oliver shrugged. "Just normal stuff. Why do you ask?"

Sara shrugged, walking again. "Nothing. I was just wondering how much to tell you. Since you know the basic things, you do know that we have no idea if the island is still above water or under it, right?"

"I know," Oliver muttered, cradling the machine closer to him.

"That's why we both had to come, just in case it's either," Sara explained and Oliver nodded. 

He wanted to ask Felicity more about herself, how she was into computers too, how she knew Sara, why she was interested in the treasure. He wanted to ask her so many things. But he kept a hold of his tongue and just followed them, repeating to himself that distance was a must if they both wanted to make it out of here alive. 

They reached a cabin, in the corridor that ran parallel to his, and entered. It was dark, with only a few sparse lights here and there, but spacious, almost as big as his room. 

"Where would you like it?" Oliver asked, his eyes on Felicity, and saw her turn beet red before she spoke a soft "There", pointing to an empty desk. Keeping the machine on the flat surface, Oliver turned to see Sara quietly leave the room with a small smirk, leaving the two of them alone together. 

The air got heavier between them, with so many unspoken things, so many unknown things. 

They looked at each other again, this time in closer proximity, and Oliver felt the mark on his hand sear his skin, like clawing to escape from the confines of his flesh. His body, which always hummed with the burn, slowly roared to a light blaze that only grew with each breath he took, every bout of oxygen in his lungs stoking that blaze. 

He tore his eyes away from hers and looked away.

"Have we met before?"

The softly spoken question had his eyes flying back to hers, stunning his burn to silence and his mind to nothingness for a second. Only for a second before the burn roared back brighter than before and his mind raced with thoughts and possibilities. 

Trying to keep the grimace of pain off his face and his voice neutral, he asked back equally softly. "Why would you think that?"

She took a few steps closer, erasing the distance between them, and her scent assailed him again, stoking the flames under his skin, worse than before. Sweat broke out over his skin. 

Completely unaware of his slow agony, she blinked up at him, her eyes searching his face over and over again, a small line between her brows. 

"You seem so familiar somehow," she spoke softly, looking into his tortured eyes with her own innocent ones. "You are from Starling, right? Did we meet at that new year party in Torque? Cooper, my crazy ex, took me there and I got really smashed with drinks which is probably why I can't remember. Plus it was years ago." 

Oliver closed his eyes for a second, knowing that she would not leave the matter alone if it wasn't put to rest and that could be lethal to them both. So, rebelling against everything inside him, he nodded. "Maybe. I was pretty drunk too when I was there."

The lie tasted foul in his mouth. 

"Huh," she muttered, searching his face again. "You don't remember what we talked about?"

"No," Oliver swallowed, fisting his hands by his sides, the burn raging wildly now. The curse had perhaps felt her proximity. Maybe this was a sign that things were going to get worse if he did not leave her for now. 

"I can't believe I forgot your face, even drunk," she spoke and Oliver took a deep breath, taking a step back, when she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and he froze.  Every muscle in his body stilled.

She had a piercing. Not a normal piercing, an industrial piercing, spanning the upper half of her lobe. The lobe, the spot, that he used to rub every night and every time he could. 

His breath stuck in his throat as he stared at that small piece of jewelry adorning her skin, the burn inside him mixing with the flood of emotions. 

The innocent piercing, compiled with her innocent question told him something that made his gut clench and his heart ache. 

"I have to go," he muttered, before she could say a word, quickly walking out the door, aware of her disbelieving gaze on his back, burning holes in his already burning skin. 

Heading to his own cabin quickly, he closed his eyes as he walked, taking strength from the fact that he had found her and he just had to break the curse, taking strength from what he had just realized.

Once inside, he headed for the bathroom and splashed the ice cold water on his face and his wrists, the sting from the sudden sharpness in the temperature making him wince but working nevertheless. The cool liquid slowly simmered the blaze down to something tolerable and Oliver heaved in a heavy breath. After a few minutes, a little under control, Oliver sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees, hunched with exhaustion from the ordeal. 

He looked at his shaking hands, completely out of his control, like everything else, and a short laugh left him. 

He had just found the woman he had shared every life with, had shared every death with, had been the cause of whose death every time. And he had just lied to her. 

For some reason, that sat heavier in his gut.  

Closing his eyes, he remembered the piercing that sat on her skin, remembered the way he used to rub that spot lifetimes ago, clearly from living them in his dreams, to calm her down when she got agitated, and before sleeping every night. 

Pushing away his wrist band, he softly traced the small finger marks ghosting his wrist, his finger feeling rough against its softness, and closed his eyes, remembering how her fingers had felt doing it. Her small, soft fingers calming him down with one simple touch. Their touch. His mouth trembled as he took deep breaths to rein in his emotions, tracing her finger-shaped marks over and over again, letting it soothe him like he always let it. 

And he realized, this is exactly what Felicity had done, exactly why she had gotten her ears pierced at the same spot he had always rubbed, even though she did not know it. 

It soothed her. The metal spanning the place his fingers had occupied reminded her of safety, from somewhere deep inside her.  

The same deep inside that, while it did not recognize him, still knew him. 

Even though she did not remember, she had not forgotten. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?
> 
> Check out my other stories if you liked this. 
> 
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	4. Gusts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Here is the next chapter, delayed, but it's here :)
> 
> Things are getting interesting on board. Enjoy!
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts! I love to hear from you! 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

The day had somehow passed. 

Oliver had avoided her as much as he could, had gone to do some physical work with the crew to take his mind off everything, letting the burn from the heavy lifting quench the burn that never really left. After leaving his cabin, he had gone back up and steered clear of where Sara and Felicity had still been working, with the help of Roy since he had disappeared. He had gone to help the other crew members settle in, introducing himself to them, assessing everyone on board.  

And the entire time, he had been aware of the slightly puzzled, slightly contemplative look she had been casting his way. 

Felicity. 

Oliver pulled his his t-shirt off his sweat-slicked skin and dropped it on the cabin floor, mulling the syllables of her name in his head, knowing he was going to avoid speaking it until his insides settled. The burn had been swiveling in and out of control the entire day, and now that the evening had come, and he had entered his room, he stood shirtless, leaning over the table and breathed through his mouth to slowly calm his body down. It was torture living through this every second of every day with no reprieve in sight.

After a few minutes, he pushed off and rummaged through his cupboard for another t-shirt, pulling it over his head and straightening.  

He knew his abruptness must have seemed odd to her today, and it made his gut clench just knowing how close she was but still so out of reach. But this was the way it had to be. The only way it could be. Which was why he had ignored her curious, fascinated eyes during the day, ignored the same look in them he had seen every night in his dreams, right in the beginning, before that look morphed into something more intense, into something more. 

And that was why he was going to ignore her for the dinner tonight. 

Digg had told him during the day that a few close people on board were invited to dinner by the Captain on the first night at his table, and he had made the list. And since Oliver already wanted to speak to the reclusive man in private, it had seemed like a good idea for him to accept. So, he had.

He locked up his room and entered the narrow corridor, looking at the small lights that barely lit his way as he made it towards the front of the ship. The gentle sway of the wood beneath his feet felt so familiar to him, even though he had never been on a ship in his life, this life. The scent of the sea made him nostalgic for things he had never even experienced, except in his dreams.

Reaching the foot of the stairs that led up, he saw Roy standing against the wall, his hands shoved into the pocket of his red hoodie and his shoulders hunched.

"Digg asked me to show you to the dining room," he spoke in a hard voice, his eyes narrowed. 

Oliver raised his eyebrows at the open hostility but kept his mouth shut about it. "Thanks."

Nodding, Roy pushed away from the wall with an agility Oliver immediately noticed and filed away for later, and followed the younger man as he weaved his way in and out of narrow, dimly lit corridors, leading him to the bowels of the ship. 

They came to a stop outside a big wooden door, newly painted by the looks of it, and entered one after the other. 

The dining room was not what he had expected. 

Oliver had had the image of a long table in the center and chandeliers from the ceiling lit with candles for some reason. Stereotypical, he knew, but that image had stuck. 

What he was looking at, though, was something completely different. 

The entire room, more like a hall, was lit up with lamps in every corner and a few lights on the ceiling, flooding it with soft light that was surprisingly cozy. There were windows lining high on the walls on either side, and Oliver knew this place would look glorious in the mornings with the sunlight filtering in, bathing everything in natural light. And though there was a table for eight in the center, there were number of other tables for two and four, all around the room, like on the inside of a homely cafe. There were dishes lining up on the long side table, along with the plates and the glasses, all utilitarian but well maintained, indicating that it was self-help here.

He liked it.

Heading towards where Digg stood, finding comfort in the man's presence for some reason, Oliver nodded to him, picking up a plate for himself and helping himself to the food, his eyes going to Roy heaping food on his with a little amusement, before he turned to Digg.

"So, is there a place for me to sit or...?" he trailed off deliberately.

"You are like the new kid at school," Digg chuckled at his question, taking his food and a glass of wine, heading towards the long table in the middle, gesturing for Oliver to follow him.  

Oliver shook his head, looking at the table, at the people already sitting there, and his step faltered as his eyes locked with hers for a moment. 

Blinking away the turmoil just gazing at her had caused, he scanned the table. The head seat was empty, obviously implying the Captain was not there yet. Digg took the other head seat at the rectangular table and Oliver stood for a second, looking at the seating. 

Sara sat on one side beside Felicity leaving the seat next to her, right next to the head seat, vacant, and the other side was occupied with Roy, Slade Wilson and Isabel. Oliver put his plate and glass down, taking the seat with a sigh, not looking sideways to where he knew she was watching him, shifting inconspicuously so they wouldn't touch at all, just her presence so close to him, her sweet scent right next to him inflaming him. 

"No wine, kid?" Slade asked in a gruff voice, startling Oliver from his thoughts. 

Oliver looked up to face the older man, seeing his one narrowed eye on him and narrowed his own. "No. I don't drink."

He really didn't. It had been a really painful experience in his early days of independence, discovering he could not tolerate alcohol. Oh, he could get drunk off of it just fine. But it was after, when the burning became intolerable, that almost killed him. Plus, sleeping too much without being aware of when to wake up was a luxury his dreams did not let him afford, his curse did not let him afford. His blood was hot enough without adding alcohol to it. 

"Why not?" he asked and Oliver raised his eyebrow, silently looking back at him without a word. 

"Mr. Queen," he heard Isabel speak from the other end of the table, and saw Felicity's hand tighten around her glass slightly in the periphery. Interesting. "As I was the first investor for this trip, I was wondering what your interest was, given the sudden nature of your inclusion here."

Oliver took a sip of his ice cold water and politely smiled, aware of everyone's interest in the question but his eyes did not leave the woman. She was sharp and Oliver did not trust the way her eyes were looking back at him. 

"What's yours?" he questioned back, tilting his head to the side. 

He saw her straighten in her chair before she began speaking. "I will not pretend that the thought of finding that treasure does not intrigue me, Mr. Queen."

"Neither will I, Ms. Rochev."

The tension on the table notched higher and Digg broke it, engaging Isabel in another conversation, giving Oliver a look to keep his mouth shut for the moment. He would happily comply. 

Oliver slowly ate the spaghetti on his plate, keeping his head down and not looking up at anyone at all, listening to the buzz in the room from multiple voices, listening to the conversations around the table and getting a better picture of the people from them, aware of the way her eyes flickered sideways to him in between her conversations with the others. Listening to her talk, so jovial and full of humor, he realized that she had a very easy-going friendship with Sara and Roy, and a deeper sort with Digg. For some reason, that pleased him, knowing that she had people who cared about her, people that she cared about. She had connections.

And sitting there on her left, Oliver had never felt more on the outside than he did right then, even though he knew her better than anyone on that table, knew her in a way no one ever could. They had a connection too. And it was for that connection that he quelled down every urge to look right back at her, to see her after being denied for so long, to extend his hand across the space between them and take hers, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. 

Oliver breathed slowly, tamping those urges down and eating his food quicker, wanting to get out of the room soon. 

But he had to wait for the Captain.

He suddenly noticed Isabel sitting ramrod straight, noticed Digg exchanging a nod with Felicity, just as a man entered the room.  

Oliver looked up properly for the first time in minutes to see the back of a tall, fit man, his hair short and grey, peppered in with streaks of something dark, his back to Oliver's vantage as he faced Digg and spoke to him. 

He saw Digg nod at whatever the man said, saw the man turn curiously towards where Oliver was seated.

And his heart stopped.

And the burn he had been keeping under tight control exploded violently inside him, making Oliver grimace in pain right before he controlled his muscles, staring stunned as the older man came forward towards the vacant seat.

It all seemed in slow motion to him. The plethora of emotions rippling through him, wave after wave washing over him, were too quick, making everything around him seem too slow.

He looked at the wrinkled, tanned leathery face, the grey hair, the neat French cut beard, the cold, cold dark eyes as the man sat down. That face had haunted him for every night of his life. That face was the reason Oliver had never been able to sleep peacefully. That face was the reason why he had to see her die every night, on repeat, _every fucking time._

And he could do nothing about it right now. 

Oliver's hand holding the fork shook slightly, and he put the steel down, pushing his hands under the table, locking them together, his entire body tensed in a way it never had been before, making him feel right on the edge of a very high cliff, just about to tip over.

The Captain settled down in his seat, turning to Oliver, with a polite smile but a hard face that had seen too much, offering his hand for him to shake.

"Mr. Queen," he spoke, his voice making a shiver go through Oliver, the memories that voice elicited profound, his stomach dropping to his knees and a burst of acute hatred filled every pore in his body, staggering him with its intensity. "Call me Jay. Everyone here does. I am the captain of the ship."

Oliver kept his shaking hands below the table, keeping his face completely blank of the pain the burn coursing through his blood was causing him, the burn which had amplified ten times upon the man's appearance. He could feel the sweat break out over his skin as he regulated his breathing, the air going in and out of his lungs hot.

Everyone was waiting for him to speak, hell to even shake the hand the older man had offered. The captain was frowning at Oliver's silence, and Oliver, for the life of him, could not find the words to say, his body completely overtaken with the burn of the pain and the burn of the hatred and the burn of shock. He tried to get his throat working, but seeing his nightmare come to life, sitting right of front of him, had rendered him mute, and Oliver kept quiet, knowing he couldn't speak or everyone would know something was wrong. And if he didn't, they would definitely know.

For the first time in his life, Oliver could not pretend, and everything inside him shook so violently he didn't know what to do.

And then he felt it. 

Small, soft fingers wrapping around his right wrist, right where he never let anyone touch him. A wave of something very soft, very cool washed over him, setting the blaze inside him to only a simmer, soothing him like nothing he had ever experienced.

He didn't look at her in surprise, did not look at her at all, as she continued rubbing her thumb over his pulse, slowly containing the tremble in his hands as Oliver inhaled and shook the man's hand with his free one, letting her touch anchor him from flying off in his own hell, the pain by the touch of the man's hand balanced by the peace from hers under the table.

"Call me Oliver," he spoke in a thankfully clear voice, removing his hand from the man's and putting it under the table again.

The Captain smiled, his eyes were shrewd, before he looked beside him to Felicity.

"Everything has been set up?"  

He felt her stiffen, her soothing thumb stopping its circular motion for a second, as she spoke neutrally. "Yes, Jay. Everything has been set up."

Oliver looked between them, sensing tension humming in the air, and frowned. Her reaction to the man was only backing Oliver's own instincts about him. She had been with the crew longer, she knew the man better, and Oliver knew just from sitting beside her that she harbored some very bitter feelings for him. He felt his own hand curve protectively around hers before he could stop it, her eyes flying to his in surprise, blinking at him. He did not even think about how hot his skin would feel to her. He just reacted. And then, she tangled her soft, small fingers with his rough ones, her thumb still brushing over his pulse, connecting them in a way he knew she did not understand. Not yet. 

Oliver looked around to see Sara engaging the Captain, Jay, in a conversation about some kind of equipment they were using to navigate to the location of the island, but her eyes kept drifting to Felicity pointedly, confusing Oliver. Seeing Felicity nod to Sara confused him even more. What was going on? 

With a soft squeeze, she pulled her hand away, leaving Oliver longing for the touch, and he glanced sideways at Felicity, feeling a wave of something soft, surprising wash over him as he saw her pull on her piercing, rubbing her ear while looking down at her empty plate, before she sighed, looking around at everyone. 

"Excuse me," she spoke, nodding to everyone curtly before pushing her chair out, and turning to leave. "I'll see you later, Sara."

Sara nodded back and Felicity left, taking away the little coolness he had felt in his blood. 

He felt his veins heat up again and pushed his own chair back, knowing he should leave before it got worse, done with the strained dinner. 

The Captain's voice halted him. "I was hoping to speak with you, Mr. Queen. After dinner."

Oliver gazed back at the man, knowing he needed some time to reevaluate, put the new developments in perspective. This had changed things.

Nodding, he replied. "Could we do it tomorrow? I was going to turn in early tonight."

The Captain narrowed his eyes slightly, before nodding graciously. "Of course. Have a good night."

"You too."

Oliver left the table, the room, feeling eyes on his back and breathed in deeply once he came to the corridor. 

He walked towards his room, his mind racing with thoughts, with the things he was learning by the hour. 

He had already known Felicity had not forgotten somethings, a fact reiterated by her rubbing her ear in the tensed situation. What had come as a surprise to him, as a punch right in the solar plexus, had been the Captain. The shaman who had cursed him, cursed them, to an eternity of hell. 

And it made red flags go up in his head. He knew the universe liked to play things up, knew it had a sense of humor at his expense. 

Oliver finding a clue and getting aboard this ship, meeting her and realizing he had to stay away, seeing the shaman as the Captain- it all sat heavy in his gut. It was too much to be a coincidence, too much to not be one. 

And all of that, from his burning magnifying to a roaring blaze when he got too close to her to it becoming unbearable in the presence of the Captain, her touch soothing him then, it all was adding up to something in his head he could not place his finger on. 

He entered the room, coming to a stop right at the threshold, surprise lighting him up.

Felicity stood in the middle of his room, whirling on her heel to look at him, biting her lip and wringing her hands together, coming towards him.

"I am not here to steal anything," she began in a hurry, blinking, "if that's what you are thinking."

He wasn't, but before he could speak, she continued. "Though I did open your lock with my special lock picker. I didn't buy it though. Roy gifted it to me, and don't ask me where he got his hands on it. But it's actually an awesome pick. And I wasn't planning on invading your privacy at all but..."

Oliver stepped forward, keeping the door open behind him and saw her gulp, before she blinked her wide blue eyes at him, completely unconscious of what that did to him.  

She inhaled deeply, nodding to herself then spoke. "I need to speak with you."

Looking at the seriousness on her face, realizing it had to be something important or she wouldn't be standing there, fidgeting, Oliver nodded and closed the door. 

This game had been going on for years, for centuries. 

And for some reason, entering his room tonight, knowing everything he knew, looking at her somber expression, Oliver felt, deep in his gut, that the game had somehow changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?
> 
> Check out my other stories if you liked this. 
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	5. Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> I know it's been way too long and I really apologize for that but thank you so much for being so patient and excited with this story.
> 
> I had way too much fun researching for this chapter. Stuff really happens in this one. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts! I love hearing from you! 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Oliver gestured for Felicity to sit down, ignoring the heat in his skin, and took a seat on the chair himself, straddling it, as she sat on the edge of the bed. 

Waiting for her to speak, he let his gaze roam over her, over her flushed skin and arched brows and lush mouth, taking this small visual reprieve only for himself. 

"I don't know what happened at the dinner table tonight," Felicity began softly, her eyes curious and open, considering him intelligently from behind those big glasses that somehow suited her. "But I figured you should know about what you are dealing with here." 

Her voice broke him out of his thoughts and his skin tingled with heat, unfurling, and he ignored it, watching the almost aqua eyes that seemed turquoise one second and a raging sapphire blue the next. 

Ignoring the first part of her sentence with effort, he asked quietly. "What am I dealing with?"

She got up from the bed impatiently and started pacing in front of him, wringing her hands. "I am not going to ask you why you decided to invest in this trip. Your reasons are your own. But since you are on for the ride, there are certain things I feel compelled to tell you for some reason."

Oliver felt himself frown at her words and spoke slowly, tamping down the urge to speak her name out loud. "What is going on?"

Just as she opened her mouth, a knock sounded on his door, startling her. Oliver gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look, feeling her nervousness thickening the air as he headed for the door, turning the knob and opening it just an inch. 

Sara stood outside, her arms folded across her chest, her usual smirk off her face and her eyes serious.  

"Is Felicity here?"

He felt his eyes narrow as he nodded once, slightly confused. That slight confusion turned to utter bafflement when he felt Felicity come up behind him, opening the door wider, and saw them exchange a long, meaningful look. Felicity sighed, closing her eyes for a second before tilting her face up to look at him, her soft scent wafting to him. 

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" 

Oliver looked down at her beautiful, azure eyes before nodding, their gazes locked for a long, silent moment.

"We really have to go."

Sara's voice broke the spell, but he didn't remove his eyes from her. 

Felicity shuffled on her feet before walking out and away, his eyes glued to her back as Sara spoke again.

"There are sharks here, big boy" she said quietly, drawing Oliver's eyes to her somber face.

"So you told me," Oliver replied, crossing his arms over his burning chest.

Sara waited a beat before giving him a meaningful look. "Not all of them are in the sea."

Oliver felt himself frown but before he could even formulate a response, she was out and walking away behind Felicity. What the hell was going on here? 

 

* * *

  

_Her eyes watched him, silently, as the poison in her veins took over her body, her lashes fluttering as she fought to keep them open._

_He cradled her head in his lap, the weight getting heavier on his burning flesh, but he couldn't let go, couldn't move._

_"Open you eyes," he shook her, his voice trembling as her lashes trembled with the effort she made, his skin singing more and more intensely, his hands gripping her face to keep her there with him with sheer force of will._

_She lifted her hand weakly, touching his fevered flesh, and tugged him down, pressing their lips together, letting go of the one breath she had been holding against his blazing mouth. Tears streaked down his face as he remained hunched over her, sobs wracking his frame, not pulling back, not willing to admit to the truth, even as he slowly perished, right there, sitting with her head in his lap, leaning over her, flames engulfing him from the inside out._

 

* * *

 

Oliver jerked awake, the blistering heat under his skin drenching the sheets in sweat as he gasped, trying to catch his breath, swinging his legs down from the bed. Gripping his head in his hands, he inhaled a mouthful of air, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, his eyes clenched shut as the agony slowly receded, the claws of fire curling back into his flesh as his mind slowly reigned over with years of learned control. He should have gotten used to it by now. Every day for so many years. 

Slowly, after minutes of quelling the fire down, he looked at his phone, checking the time. 3.11 A.M.

Not that bad. He'd actually managed a few hours tonight. It would be dawn in an hour or so, and guessing by the talk with Digg, the ship would be buzzing with activity.

Cracking his neck to the side, feeling his muscles stretch and cord, he looked down at his phone contemplatively, last night's events filling his mind.

The dinner had been one major eye-opener to a lot of things, now that he thought about it. He knew he had to be careful with the Captain, first and foremost. It was unknown territory, given who he had been and given Felicity's stiff reaction to the man, Oliver's instincts told him to be very, very cautious, especially since the man had been the shaman to cast the curse, and especially since Oliver did not know whether he remembered anything like him or nothing like Felicity. It was a very precarious situation that he'd have to tread with all his senses on alert.

Another thing he realized, pondering over the dinner now, was that something was going on that Felicity had tried to tell him about and Sara and Digg and Roy were privy to it, given the looks they had exchanged all night. And why Felicity had wanted to include him in the circle, and why she hadn't when Sara had arrived was confounding him. Did it have something to do with the Captain? Or was it related to the treasure? Or something else entirely? Why had she quietened upon seeing Sara? What the hell was going on?

Shaking his head at the plethora of thoughts, Oliver unlocked his phone quickly, opening the search engine to distract his mind, staring at the blinking cursor waiting for his command. Remembering the night, he quickly typed the first thing that came to his mind, his curiosity getting to him. 

The page loaded full of links to different websites and he clicked on the first one. 

_Sharks in the Atlantic Ocean._

He slowly started reading, more to pass the time than anything else. Sara had told him in the morning that the waters were inhabited by sharks, and since he had never really known much about them, except to stay away, he kept reading, from one link to the next, awed by the intelligent predatory creatures, seeing pictures and videos.   

After a few links, he sighed, regretfully bored, and dropped his phone on the bed, getting up. 

Pulling a t-shirt over his head and cargo pants up his legs, he walked out of the room in his slippers, locking the door behind him, and headed up to the deck, hands in his pockets. The corridor was lit dimly as he moved quietly, everyone sleeping peacefully it seemed, his steps silent as he climbed the stairs. 

Opening the stairwell door, he stepped out onto the empty deck, closing the door behind him and walking towards the railing. The sky was still a black veil, littered with stars and a crescent moon, vast and consuming in its vastness. Oliver leaned against the rail, resting on his elbows, feeling the soft breeze on his face as he looked at the sheer expansiveness of the horizon, feeling comfortable in the sounds of the gentle waves lapping against the ship. 

Oliver had never been on a ship in his life. This life at least. He remembered reading the stories of adventurous pirates to the younger kids at the orphanage, remembered wondering what that freedom must feel like, remembered that knowledge, even then, that he would love the seas. The first time he had gone to a beach, he had spent hours just walking on the sand barefoot, feeling it slip between his toes as the water had lapped around his calves soothingly. It had been the most peaceful thing he had felt in his life full of fire. The water had doused the flames out for a while. 

He chuckled at the irony of it, shaking his head, his eyes on the water. He remembered the first time he had seen her floating on a wooden plank in his dream, on a night much like this. Her hair had been so dark, her skin so pale. He had rescued her for ransom all those years ago and both of them had ended up paying. But even now, looking at the same waters, the only thing he regretted was the way things ended then. Not rescuing her, not knowing her, not even touching her when he had had no right to. Just the way they had paid for it. 

And the dreams, like the sea, had never changed. 

A sudden noise jarred him from his thoughts and he turned his neck, listening carefully, a frown marring his brows. A few beats passed. It didn't come again and he shrugged it off, straightening, pushing his hands in his pockets again.

A sound came again. A different sound. From the opposite side of the ship, from behind the wooden cabins. The sound of something dropping into the sea. 

Not understanding who would be throwing something at this hour, something heavy judging by the sound of it, Oliver started cautiously towards the area, walking on silent feet, keeping as quiet as possible. 

A muffled sound reached him and he walked faster, entering the other side of the deck, coming to a stop. The entire area was empty. Completely empty.

Frowning, he stood silently, looking around, when the muffled sound came again. From overboard. 

Disbelief washing over him, he rushed to the railing, looking into the dark water, over the area rife with ripples when suddenly an arm popped out from under the waves. Before he could even process, he saw the blonde waves of long hair floating in the ripples.

He froze, every muscle in his body stilling, his heart stopping, the comprehension of when and who and why eluding him as adrenaline crashed over his veins, his entire being in denial for a split second. No. _No!_

The fire roared to life inside him suddenly, spurring him into action as he ran to the wall, pushing the huge red alarm button and running back to the rail before he even heard it blaring around the whole ship, the sound high and pealing in the quiet night.

He distantly heard the sounds of people rushing to the deck and shouted on top of his lungs. _"Get me a tube, now!"_

The bustle of people moving behind him, his eyes were on the sea, when he saw it in the distance. A small fin. Above the water. Heading towards where it must have sensed the disturbance.

His stomach dropped. 

Without another thought, Oliver gripped the high rail of the ship and swung his body, jumping overboard, only one thought roaring in his head. _Protect her._   

The air rushed around his ears for seconds right before the chilled water hit his feet, the salty taste of the sea filling his mouth for a moment. Pushing up, feeling the buoyancy hit him, he swam quickly towards where she was. He reached her just as she was going down, pulling her by the waist and lifting her head out of the water, his eyes falling to the gag around her mouth, her eyes half open.

"Felicity! Felicity, stay with me!" he spoke loudly, shaking her, seeing her eyes flutter open once before closing again.

Fury filled him, hard and fast as he felt her hands tied behind her back, her unconscious body limp against his. Controlling the fire, of pure unadulterated rage, he lifted her over his shoulder, keeping them afloat. Her safety was the only thought giving him the strength to focus, her weight on him a reminder, everything inside him needing to protect her before he could give in to the need to hit something.  

"Felicity!" he heard Sara scream loudly from above and turned, seeing the crowd around the rails and Digg lowering a large tube. 

"Oliver, over here!" 

His eyes scanned the water beyond, everything he had read almost half an hour ago filling his mind as he saw the fin he had spied from above still headed for them, quite far but closing the distance faster than he was comfortable with, especially with her as vulnerable as she was.

Sharks, if what he had read was correct, liked this time of almost dawn and any sudden movements were to be absolutely avoided in their proximity. Inhaling deeply, Oliver slowly swam towards the tube when someone, upon finally spotting the fin in the water, yelled "shark" loudly on the deck. 

He could hear the sudden panicked shouts from above, urging him to swim faster but he closed them out, feeling the wind rushing around him, the blood pounding in his ears as he swam swiftly, keeping his eyes on the distantly approaching fin on every alternate thrust. His muscles started burning, both with the physicality of the motion and because of having her so close to himself, but Oliver focused on the tube, on getting her away from danger, almost a few feet away now, moving smoothly, cutting through the water, ignoring the chaos above on the deck, her weight heavy on his heart as he throttled his emotions back for later. He had to get her out, now. She was the priority. 

Reaching the tube, Oliver looked at its size, knowing instinctively that it wouldn't hold the two of them together. It didn't matter. She had to get out of the water. 

He lowered her quickly on it, seeing the way her hair had tangled around her face and her skin had paled, nostalgia hitting him for a second before he shoved it away, looking up at Digg. 

"Pull her up, _now_ ," he shouted and saw a few of them pull on the ropes, the pulleys creaking on its hinges as she was elevated higher. His chest tight, Oliver looked back towards the shark, much closer than it had been, the fin appearing bigger than it had from the distance, and swam closer to the ship, glancing swiftly back at the tube's progress. It was only halfway up. And the shark could leap to out of the water, though not likely since Oliver was still there. But he couldn't take the chance. The urgency to get her away even from the vicinity of the danger was acute.

Inhaling deeply, his gut knotting, Oliver turned back to the fin, adrenaline buzzing through his veins. The gills and the eyes, he remembered, were the soft points. He just had to focus on not being killed.

He looked up at the tube again, needing her out of harm's way, and a rush of relief flooded him. Digg was pulling her limp body out of the tube and on to the safety of the deck. Good. Nodding to himself, he quickly turned completely to face the incoming shark. 

The shrieks and shouts on board filled the air as the sun slowly peeked up over the horizon, the early morning light falling upon the tall grayish-white fin, the picture of which he had just seen before coming out. Great White Shark, his brain helpfully provided. Highly dangerous. Almost twenty feet long. While Oliver had marveled over the mightiness of the beast earlier, he stayed as still as possible now, his heart pounding, his eyes on the fin, his legs constantly moving to keep himself up as voices reached his ears.

"It's getting closer, damn it!"

"Lower the tube!"

"It's stuck!"

"What do you mean it's stuck? Do something!"

"Digg!"

His jaw clenched. He was not dying like this, not after everything, not after getting so close to breaking his curse. Gills and eyes, he remembered. Avoid the jaws.

The shark was almost seventy feet away.

"God damn it, do something!"

"Fuck, Digg!"

The shouts reached him, the water cool against his heated body, waves lapping at him, his focus on the approaching predator.

Sixty feet.

Fire flooded his system, sensing the danger, sensing the death closing in. He throttled it back.

"Oliver!"

He didn't look up, didn't remove his gaze as something fell over his shoulder.

Fifty feet.

"Oliver, take the rope! We'll pull you up!"

A rope. 

Oliver found it on his shoulder with his hand and wrapped it around his fist, never taking his eyes off the shark.

Feeling the rough, thick rope around his hand sturdily, Oliver reached up with the other, hoisting himself up. The moment his legs lifted, the shark, which had been invading slowly so as to not frighten its prey, suddenly moved with speed. 

"Quickly!"

"Hurry up!"

"Damn, it's closing in!"

Thirty feet. 

He burned. 

But he had to get back to her. Clenching his teeth, he heaved himself up, grateful for the strength he had built up over the years with exercise, as someone pulled the rope from above as well, elevating him higher above the water. 

"It's here!"

Oliver looked down, just in time to see the shark leap slightly above the water, and he knew it in his gut that another jump was coming, a higher one. As fast as he could, he climbed higher and higher as someone rapidly pulled on the rope, the urgency in all movements, his heart thundering.

"Watch out!"

The moment the loud cry reached him, he swung his legs up, wrapping them around the rope as he inverted his body upside down, blood rushing to his head, and looked down at the sharp teeth his legs had missed just by a few feet as the shark broke the surface in a high jump before falling back. 

"Don't shoot it!" he heard Sara shriek at someone as he dangled in the air, wrapped around the rope, his eyes on the water, seeing the shark right under the waves. 

The railing of the ship suddenly came into his view and he left the rope with one hand, gripping the steel bar and mustering on all his strength, he flipped, landing on the deck, feeling the solid wooden boards under his feet, his thighs and calves aching, his heart hammering rigorously in his chest. He dropped down on his butt, heaving huge gulps of breaths, as everyone around him cheered and hollered, and his eyes fell on Felicity's unconscious form as she lay on the deck, still bound and gagged, forgotten. He felt his anger rising. Why the hell had no one freed her?

Shoving away from the spot, he sat on his haunches beside her, reining in his temper, cautiously removing the gag from her mouth with shaking fingers and untying the cords around her hands, seeing the angry red marks on her wrists. His fingers went to her pulse, in a move he had lived too many times in his dreams, feeling the quiet but steady throb, letting it calm him. She was okay. His eyes closed as he exhaled in relief.

He heard Digg shout orders at everyone, sending most of the people back to their stations.

Only Sara and Roy remained above with them.

"Let's get you two down," Digg said from behind him and he nodded, ignoring the burn in his flesh and picked her up in his arms, needing to feel the solid weight of her against him, needing to feel her chest rising and falling with breaths to reassure his shaky thoughts. It had been too close. 

Sara gave him a quiet look before gesturing for him to follow her, and he wordlessly did, tucking Felicity close to his chest, her face fitting in the crook of his neck and shoulder perfectly, her soft breaths whispering over his skin, soothing him like nothing else.

They went downstairs, turning left, toward's Felicity's cabin he assumed as flames started licking over him again. Inhaling deeply, smelling the sea on both of them, he walked the narrow corridor, the sunlight slowly filtering in through the windows, all of them silent. 

Sara stopped at a door at the end of the corridor, opening it for him, and he entered, her scent assaulting his nose with the first step, stoking the burn under his skin, as he headed straight for the double bed in the corner, laying her down gently on the soft mattress, pushing her wet strands away from her face, his fingers brushing her cheeks. Aware suddenly of the scrutinizing eyes on him, he straightened. 

"You need to change," Sara said quietly. "So does she."

Oliver nodded again, examining her and Roy as they stood stiffly in the room, Digg standing near the door with his arms crossed. 

"I'll go change and be back," Oliver stated, his voice hard, brooking no arguments about it. 

He headed for the door at their nods and stopped beside Digg, his eyes measuring the older man. 

"Stay with her," Oliver said, both a request and a command, trusting him for some reason to look out for her in his absence, needing the reassurance that she'd be okay without him watching. 

"Go change, man," Digg replied, placing a large hand on Oliver's shoulder firmly, giving him all the answer he needed. 

Exhaling, Oliver jogged back to his own cabin a corridor away, hating the distance between them somehow, his legs shaky and muscles aching. He shut his door, stripping quickly and dropping the clothes on the floor, heading to the bathroom. Taking a cold, quick shower, he dressed in another t-shirt and jeans, pushing all thoughts back to process later, just losing himself in the motion. Within five minutes, he was jogging back to Felicity's room.

Standing outside the door, he rapped hard on the wood and watched the door open, Roy peeking out to check who it was. He saw the younger man, who'd had a chip on his shoulder whenever he saw him, relax and open the door wide, something akin to respect in his eyes that had Oliver raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Thank you," Roy spoke, his hands in his hoodie pockets as he spoke, his eyes too serious for a boy his age. "You saved her life."

It was his to save. More than anyone could know.  

Oliver nodded his thanks and entered the room, finally taking it in. It was a replica of his, almost as spacious, done in the same brown and cream as his, except with a few red cushions thrown in haphazardly, a laptop on the table and colorful blankets pooling the bed. Felicity lay on the blankets,  her eyes still closed, in dry pajamas that had some sort of cartoons on them, which made slight amusement fill him for some reason, taking him by surprise.

"She's sleeping," Sara informed him from her place beside Felicity on the bed. "She woke up for a second when I was changing her clothes then went back to sleep."

Oliver looked at the angry bruises on her wrists, the marks evidently indicating that she had struggled against her bindings. He felt the amusement die, anger replacing it in his chest swiftly, his jaw clenching as he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest, aware of Roy shutting the door and coming back inside. He hopped on the table beside the chair occupied by Digg, who was looking at Oliver with understanding eyes, and Oliver took each one of them in, his fists tight, his veins pumping with the burn that never really left, his mind finally realizing how close a call it had been for her, for him, for both of them.

He finally spoke, addressing all of them, the demand in his voice roiling with aggravation.

"I want to know what the hell is going on here." 

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	6. Sprays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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_The cry that left her lips made him struggle frantically to escape his bonds. The blade cut across the smooth skin of her stomach as she sat, bound by ropes to the chair in front of him. For an hour she had been trying to keep her noises to a minimum, to spare him the agony of seeing her pain._

_Their captor ran the blade deeper again and Oliver cried out loud, everything inside him breaking as a fire took over his flesh, her whimpers feeding it, his insides ripping. He begged the man to torment him, to torture him, to spare her. But he didn't listen._

_Her body visibly shook from the pain, her blood painting her flesh red in places that she had been cut, her hair damp from perspiration and lips red from the way she had bitten them to keep in her screams. He shook in his chair, the ropes not giving way, fire licking under his skin, burning brighter as the agony continued._

_The knife licked over her skin and embedded itself deep into her side, her scream cutting him to pieces as her eyes clenched in pain. The knife stayed there, blood seeping, pooling at her feet as her eyes opened, locking with his across the room, a tremulous smile lifting her lips for his sake. It made him cry harder as he strained towards her, sobbing for her._

_Her lips moved a little, no sound escaping her but he made the words out, the words she had never spoken but he had always known. I love you._

_He felt his insides burn, seep away as she slowly blinked her eyes, her mouth trembling, her body straining towards him. Then, the man plunged the knife deeper one last time._

_She fell into the abyss she had been teetering on the edge of._

_He jumped into it right after her._

 

* * *

 

There was silence in the room. 

Oliver waited a beat, then another, frustration swirling in his belly with the ever-present burn, taking in the expression on each of their faces. 

Digg sat quietly, pensive, his dark eyes steady on Oliver, no doubt or questions on his face, just resignation of some kind. Roy's jaw was clenched, his hands still in his pockets as he sat on the table, clearly upset about something. Sara just looked thoughtful, no smirk anywhere on her face as she sat beside a sleeping Felicity. 

"What happened at dinner last night?" she asked quietly. 

Oliver stared steadily back at her, his face showing none of the surprise he was feeling at her words, ignoring the way the men's eyes sharpened on him. 

"What makes you think something happened?" Oliver questioned back, his voice clear of any emotion, arms crossed over his chest. 

Sara glanced back at Felicity before looking again at Oliver. "Because I found her in your room after dinner and when I asked her about it, she wouldn't tell me anything. And hours later, someone throws her overboard?"

Oliver straightened from the wall, his hands coming by his sides, anger pulsing through his veins with the fire.

"That is exactly what I want to know, Sara," he grit out. "Why was she thrown overboard? Why was she in my room trying to tell me something?"

Sara stayed silent. So did Roy. Digg spoke up. 

"What did she tell you, man?" 

Oliver exhaled, running his hand through his hair. "Nothing. She told me absolutely nothing."

"What were you doing outside at that time?" Sara asked again. Oliver understood where her suspicion might come from, understood her protectiveness, but after the kind of minutes he had spent in the water, the kind of fear he had known almost losing Felicity without even having a chance, he sure as hell did not appreciate it. 

"I am not answering a single question till you answer mine," Oliver stated clearly, keeping his temper in check, his voice low. 

His words rang heavily in the room as everyone contemplated them. Silence. 

And then a low, soft voice spoke. 

"Why are you all here if I am dead?"

Oliver's heart picked up pace, his eyes swiveling to see Felicity blink her eyes open groggily. Everyone turned to her as she sat up, Sara holding her arm as Digg adjusted her pillows and Roy hovered. Oliver grit his teeth, willing himself to stay back, quelling the urge to spear his fingers through her soft hair and check her for injuries like he wanted to before softly touching her ear, reassuring himself that she was alright. His hands fisted beside him as he contended himself just by watching her from the periphery of the group, a pang going through his chest at his inability to be with her as the others were. He closed his eyes, breathing softly through his mouth, and touched the spot on his wrist under the band, calming the burn down. She was safe, she was alive, and that was all that mattered. He would watch from the periphery for an eternity, burning as he was, if that meant keeping her safe. 

"What happened?"

Her voice broke through his thoughts, drawing him back to focus on her frame as she sat, drowned in pillows, her wet hair drying in a frizz around her face like a halo. Even in her condition, she glowed. His lips twitched a bit at that. He could never understand how she did that, without even trying. 

"What do you remember, Felicity?" Sara asked softly and Oliver's gaze focused on them. 

He saw Felicity's brows furrow a little as she blinked a few times. "I was here," she started, sounding confused. "In the room. I had just come out from the shower," she said, pointing to the bathroom, her hand moving as she spoke. "Then, I walked to the table and opened the laptop because we had to do that research for the morning."

She stared at the table for a few seconds, as though searching for answers in the wood, concentrating on it. 

"And then someone put something on my mouth from behind," she murmured slowly, remembering. 

Fury unfurled in his gut but he reined it in, staying absolutely still, afraid he would do something if he moved. Focusing on keeping his breaths steady, Oliver listened, heat flowing right under his skin, the burn spreading, along with the rage.

"I kind of struggled but he put this gag in my mouth," Felicity said, her eyes still on the table. "It's all a blank after that."

Closing his eyes for one second, Oliver cracked his neck. He wanted to beat that monster to an inch of his life. He wanted to find him and make him wish he hadn't even laid a finger on her. He wanted to unleash the _monster_ he knew he could be, give freedom to the fire and burn everything around him. But he wanted her safe more. So, he quietly stood in the corner, aware of Digg looking at him speculatively. He knew he would have questions to answer later.

"What happened?" Felicity asked again, her eyes suddenly finding him, striking him with that clear blue. She blinked at him in surprise, her lips parting slightly before shaking her head, flushing at whatever she had been thinking. Oliver felt his eyebrows raise slightly, curiosity assailing him.

"Someone threw you in the water," Sara began speaking to her but her eyes remained locked on his. Oliver's pulse picked up, their gazes connected, heavy with more than unanswered questions, locked even as Sara kept speaking. "Thankfully Oliver was there in time and jumped after you."

"Oh?" the word escaped her, her eyes widening slightly at him, their connected gazes not escaping anyone's attention.

"Yeah," Sara continued, her eyes swinging between them. "You were in the water and then-"

"I got you out," Oliver spoke for the first time since she woke up, interrupting Sara before she could speak of the shark, not wanting Felicity to know about it for some reason. Maybe because he did not want her vision of him to be colored by gratefulness or some warped sense of guilt. He didn't know. He just didn't want her to know now.

He felt everyone's eyes on him at the obvious interruption but ignored them, never moving his eyes away from the only ones that mattered.

Someone knocked on the door, calling for Digg and Digg sighed, getting up from the chair.

Oliver saw the man squeeze Felicity's shoulder, smiling at her. "Rest up. You need anything, you call me."

Felicity nodded, smiling gratefully, and Oliver felt himself liking the man even more for this. He was good to her.

Digg turned to Oliver then, his eyes seeing way more than Oliver wanted him to see.

"Later," Digg nodded at him, and Oliver nodded back, seeing the man leave and shut the door behind him.

Slowly, he walked over to the empty chair and sat down, turning back to Felicity, ignoring the other two in the room. His eyes took in her face, still looking tired from the lack of sleep and the exertion of her body, and something inside him softened.

"What were you going to tell me last night?" he asked, deliberately not using her name, knowing he would give away more than he wanted to in that one word and that was not something he wanted to do with an audience.

Felicity's eyes stayed on his as she stayed quiet for long minutes, some kind of warning in them, and with sudden clarity he knew she didn't want him to mention the dinner or what had happened under the table to the others. Oliver gave her a perceptible nod and saw her relax a bit before she inhaled deeply.

"Someone does not want us to find that island," she stated quietly, her gaze certain on his.   

Oliver felt his eyebrows go up. "What makes you so sure?" 

She tilted her head at him. "The fact that this is the third attempt on my life?"

Oliver stilled, feeling the burn suddenly blaze inside him, his eyes never wavering from hers. Third? This was the _third_ attempt? His fingers flexed and his jaw tightened. He kept his reactions as under control as he could, knowing how closely Sara and Roy were watching him, his gut churning with the need for violence. 

"Explain," he commanded, speaking the only word he could as his teeth gnashed in fury, every protective instinct inside him raging to take her somewhere far away. 

Felicity looked at him for a few seconds, her eyes softening and turned to Sara. "Could you guys give us the room?" Then Oliver saw her eyes widen. "To talk. Just to talk. Like I did with you two before we sailed. I think it'll go better that way. By talking. Alone. In the room."

Oliver watched, charmed and slightly amused, as a flush stole over her cheeks and she groaned, making Sara smirk and even Roy crack a smile. Sara nodded, getting up and took Roy by the arm, waving at the two of them with a wink.

Felicity groaned again as the door shut, her eyes returning to his. Oliver leaned back in the chair, his stance relaxing somewhat automatically now that it was just the two of them, and saw her bite her lip.

"I thought you might appreciate the privacy," she spoke.

"I do," Oliver replied, their eyes never moving away from the other, the tension between them so much stronger than his dreams, so much more palpable. A part of him rejoiced in it. Another shirked away, afraid of the consequences.

Silence ensued, and before he could help it, Oliver broke it.

"What happened, Felicity?" he asked softly, savoring her name on his lips, letting it escape only between the two of them, knowing she would savor it back.

Her eyes fluttered close once, her hand going up to her ear, rubbing near her piercing. Oliver's heart stuttered, the longing to do exactly what she was doing so acute he gripped the arms of the chair.

"This trip was my idea," she began, her eyes open but looking at the folded blanket as she spoke, her fingers soothing her ear, tracing her lobe, on repeat. Oliver willed himself to stay quiet, stay motionless, just to let her talk, her voice soft and so beautiful to his senses.

"The first time I heard of _Arcanum_ was four years ago," she started, tucking her legs under her. "I had always been into mysteries. And _Arcanum_ means mystery, secrets. They just bug me and I love solving them. But when I read about it, it just, I can't explain it, just connected to me like nothing had."

Oliver closed his eyes. He understood better than she could know. Shaking his head, he looked back at her, only to find her eyes on him, watching him curiously.

"It was almost like I had known it somewhere, the same kind of feeling I get when I see you, in fact."

His heart pounded at her words but he kept his face stoic and nodded for her to continue. She did. 

"Anyhow, since I had already gotten my computer degree with an early graduation, I decided to focus on the lost island," her hand came down from her ear as she got more animated. "I did all the research I could, spoke to all the experts myself, learned of all the legends, everything for three years. It kind of became my life mission, sort of a life's pursuit, to find this island. I even spoke to the pilots who had spotted it about a year and a half ago, to get the exact location. It is fascinating."

She was. The life in her face was something he had seen seep out way too often not to adore it in its presence. The wild movements of her hands as she spoke, barely even realizing she was moving them in speed with her words, that was what fascinated him. Oliver watched her, not knowing whether to just sit silent and listen to her talk for as long as he could, or interrupt her movements and ask her the questions he wanted. The burn flared and Oliver flinched, opting for the former. He had lived with the burn long enough to know a few more minutes won't kill him. 

Her aqua eyes blinked at him. "And after three years, I decided it was time. I got in touch with my father whom I hadn't seen in over a decade and I organized this entire trip. The famed treasure was a good enough temptation for most people on board. But I'm not really interested in the treasure."

She wasn't?

"I just want to see that island. To be there. Stand there," she spoke passionately, looking at him. "I just have this feeling like I need to. I don't know why and I know it seems silly but..."

"It's not silly," Oliver whispered before he could stop himself, seeing a small smile lift her lips, his skin tingling uncomfortably now.

She picked up her words again. "Anyhow, it took time to get the crew. Sara and Roy I had known from before, and I met Digg a few months ago."

Oliver nodded. "And the attempts on your life?"

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed a little, and Oliver hated himself for it even as she answered. "They started about a month ago. At first it was usual creepy stuff, you know. Letters, emails, death threats. I didn't really take it seriously because it was expected. I mean I was planning to look for a treasure that could be worth millions. So, I didn't really pay it attention."

Oliver saw her chest heave then, her breathing pick up and his fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. "What changed?" he asked, his voice gruff, his skin prickling from the inside as the heat climbed. 

She took a deep breath, her eyes never moving from his. "About a month ago, I came back to my apartment from Sara's place to find it completely trashed. All the research was gone, everything about the trip gone and everything messed up. And there was this note stuck to the door, telling me that if i didn't stop, I was dead."

Oliver didn't react, didn't interrupt, even as his chest tightened with rage and his breath left his mouth harshly. 

"Apparently the person didn't know I was a computer whiz so obviously I had everything backed up on my drive," Felicity said in a dry tone, rolling her eyes, and it soothed him somewhat. "The plan continued. I called the cops but they couldn't do much. And then last week, someone broke into my place at night and tried to smother me, but Roy was there in the guest room. Long story. Some bad guys were waiting for him at his place so he crashed at mine. Well, it's not that long. Anyways, I must have made a noise so Roy came in and spooked the guy."

Points to him. Oliver definitely liked the boy. If he could have, he would have thanked him for protecting her.

Felicity continued, lost in her own train. "That's why he is so wary of you. Don't take it personally. He is naturally suspicious of anyone and since that night it has bumped up notches. But I guess since you saved me today that should earn you some brownie points with him. Maybe you two should open a club. The Save Smoak Club."

Despite the situation, Oliver felt the side of his mouth curl up, the burn inside him flaring again at the small pleasure he found in her company, reminding him of who he was and what they were. There was no respite for him. 

"I just wanted to warn you to be careful last night," she said quietly, her gaze intense on his. "Someone really went to a lot of efforts to have this trip cancelled. Someone who is not afraid to do whatever it takes. And you just aided this trip by investing at the last minute. That might just have painted a target on your back, so you need to watch it and you need to be careful of who you trust." 

A smile graced his lips before he could stop it. The fact that she didn't know him, for all intents and purposes, and was still concerned for his life touched him in a place he hadn't thought possible, a place inside him that had remained frozen even with the fire in his body. That ice just thawed a bit at the earnest look on her face, as she continued speaking, not realizing the extent of what she had just done. 

"I can personally vouch for Digg and Sara and Roy, but apart from that, no one else."

That made Oliver frown a bit. "The Captain?"

Felicity scoffed. "My father, you mean?" 

Oliver swallowed, the hatred for the man burning his flesh from the inside. He nodded. 

"I don't know him," Felicity said quietly. "We hadn't spoken in over a decade and he left my mother and I by his choice. I grew out of that resentment a long time ago, and this is only a business thing. He had a ship and I needed one. That's it. I am his computer expert who also happens to dabble in archaeology on the side, and he is just the captain of the ship. So, no, I don't trust him."

Oliver pondered on her words for a long minute, his head tilting to the side, and watched her squirm a little under his gaze. "You don't know me either," he pointed out quietly.

Her eyes considered him intelligently, narrowing a bit. "I am still not sure about that."

The tension between them suddenly spiked. They stayed silent, eyes on each other, him leaning back in the chair and her on the bed, breathing evenly. 

"For example," Felicity started conversationally, the lightness in her voice belying the heaviness of her gaze. "I knew the moment you stiffened when Jay entered the hall last night. I knew you wanted nothing more than to get up and leave the dinner table then. And I instinctively knew that I had to keep you there, knew that holding your wrist would be the only thing that would calm you down." 

She leaned forward then, her eyes beseeching. 

"When I thought about it later," she kept talking as his heart thundered in his chest. "It seemed crazy to me. I mean really, it's crazy thought. It doesn't work like that, but guess what? It did. So, tell me, how did I know these things? Why do I trust you when I apparently don't know you?"

Oliver stayed silent, his heart pounding hard, sweat beading his skin as the burn roared in his flesh, her words resonating so deep inside him. But he stayed silent, because even though he couldn't tell her the truth, he wouldn't lie to her. Not again. She didn't deserve his lies.

The tension between them notched higher, thickening, her sapphire eyes never wavering from his face, noting every single reaction with intelligence, and he made an effort not to react, to keep his face blank, his eyes empty. He wasn't sure it worked.

Long, long minutes passed in the thick, loaded silence and then someone knocked on the door.

She didn't look away. Neither did he.

Roy spoke from the other side. "Um, the Captain wants to speak with you, Oliver."

Something in Felicity's eyes shifted at the message, her lip trembling just slightly, but enough that he noticed. He frowned, standing up from the chair, watching the smooth line of her neck as she tilted her head back to keep their gazes locked.

"Get some sleep," he uttered softly. He wanted to tell her to call him if she needed anything, to talk to him, to just be with him. He kept his lips pursed. 

Felicity stared back at him, her own eyes swirling with things he couldn't understand, before she spoke. "Please be careful."

He swallowed, nodding, and turned to leave, finally breaking their stare, and walked towards the door on leaden legs.

"Oliver?"

He froze. His name on her lips, in her soft voice stopped him in his tracks, his eyes closing as he savored the sound inside him, locking it inside as a happy memory for later and turned his neck to see her.

She looked so small on the bed, so soft, so welcoming. Oliver wanted nothing more than to get there with her, just to hold her close, just to feel her pressed against him. His skin flamed just at the thought, punishing him for it.

"Thank you," she spoke softly, the honesty in her eyes humbling. "For jumping after me."

His heart stopped, the words resonating again. Oliver let a beat pass, his emotions in turmoil, his dreams and realities clashing, and spoke, giving her the honesty she was giving him.

"I will always jump after you."

He heard her breath hitch at his softly spoken words, and he walked out without looking back.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Do let me know.
> 
> Check out my other stories if you liked this. 
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	7. Breezes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thank you so very much for the enthusiasm for this story! Seriously, the feedback has stumped me so thank you!
> 
> Here is the next chapter. Stuff happens. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

The cabin the Captain was using as his office was spacious. Oliver looked around, standing near the door, his hands in his pockets as Roy shut the door behind him with a meaningful nod.

_Be careful._

Breathing in deeply, tamping the flames licking under his skin, he took in the room. There was a huge window on the left without curtains, bathing the room in sunlight and offering the view of the front of the ship, since it was located above the deck. The furniture in the cabin was functional, with a huge desk dominating the right, the chair behind the desk bigger than the two before it, and the wall behind the chair completely covered with a map. Oliver studied the map, his eyes lingering over the red routes someone, most likely the Captain, had marked of their journey, all the red lines leading and ending at one spot in the sea, one random spot. But Oliver knew it wasn't random. The island was obviously not on the map. 

Feeling the sun on his back, Oliver stepped into the shadow near the chairs, observing the stack of books on the shelf that took one wall - the books on nothing except sea, sea, and more sea. The Captain, he got the impression, was a well read man, at least where the sea was concerned. And he wasn't to be trusted.

Oliver closed his eyes, vividly remembering the day he had been cursed like it was yesterday, vividly remembering the man who had cursed him, cursed her, while he stood frozen. Loathing filled him, the very burn in his flesh a reminder of why he wished to kill the man, and why he couldn't. Not yet.

Hearing the door open behind him, Oliver took a deep breath and turned, his eyes falling on the very man in question as he walked forward, his skin clawing with the burn just at the sight of him. Clenching his jaw, he deliberately kept his face blank and his senses alert, watching the other man like a hawk. Predator. He was done being preyed upon. 

"I hope I didn't pull you away from somewhere, Oliver," the older man spoke politely even as his eyes chilled, as he took a seat on the big chair, his eyes on Oliver.

Oliver matched his stare, not reacting to the ice in those eyes at all. The fire inside him was a hundred times more intense than any ice the other man could have. Feeling that fire in his bones, reveling in that fire, he took a seat opposite him, leaning back into the chair.

"Not at all, Jay," he said, keeping his voice deliberately free of any weight. Oliver didn't know if the man remembered anything, and measuring that was important. He leaned back, completely relaxed to anyone who saw him, his eyes sharp on the older man's even as his skin burned to get away from him.

The Captain stared back at Oliver, his eyes narrowing slightly at whatever he saw, and he sat back as well, his grey hair stark in contrast to his tanned face.

"I have a few questions for you, Oliver," the Captain began.

Oliver did too, but he kept quiet, nodding for the man to go ahead.

"You invested a lot at the last moment on this trip," he began, his eyes dark. "In my experience, anything good happening right on the last day only means two things."

The older man paused, leaning forward, putting his elbows on the table as Oliver stayed silent, letting him talk.

"One," he continued. "The good thing usually doesn't stay good for very long. And two, the man doing good cannot be trusted. So, tell me, Oliver, which is it?"

Oliver raised one eyebrow, keeping his face stoic, the hatred for the man coursing through his veins with each breath. He curled one corner of his mouth deliberately, and spoke in a bored voice.

"The only thing you need to trust, Jay, is the money fueling this ship and keeping you fed," Oliver said without blinking. "As long as you trust that money, it'll keep you happy."

Oliver saw the man's eyes sharpen on him, observe him in that cold way he still remembered from his dreams. The cold dark eyes that had haunted him all his life. How could Felicity even be his daughter?

"Why come last minute?" the man asked quietly.

Oliver shrugged, knowing it would rile him more, and stayed quiet.  

The Captain sat back again, never moving his gaze from Oliver. Oliver stared back, not showing any of what he was feeling. 

"How much of the treasure do you hope to claim?"

And things were going to get tricky. Since he did not know whether the man remembered their past or not, Oliver didn't want to speak of gold stick like he had originally planned. 

"Just an artifact," Oliver replied vaguely, in the same bored tone. "As a souvenir. The treasure holds no interest for me." 

The Captain raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Then why come in the first place?"

"My reasons are my own."

"I'm curious."

Oliver's voice hardened. "Don't be."

Silence. 

He saw the flash of anger in the older man's eyes and looked back coolly, refusing to let the burn under his skin take over at the moment.

After a few seconds of silence, the Captain spoke again. "I heard you had an interesting morning."

Oliver's jaw tightened, his gut knotting. Felicity.

Gritting his teeth, to keep from doing something rash, Oliver tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. If the man even spoke a word about her, anything insulting...

"She's my daughter, Oliver," the older man stood up suddenly and leaned forward, his palms planted on the desk, his stance clearly trying to intimidate him. "Stay away from her." 

Oliver looked in the dark eyes, in the dark abyss his life, lives, had been spent in, remembering the heavy weight of her body in the water, remembering that flare of panic at her closed eyes, remembering the desperation to get her to safety even if he drowned. Oliver remembered the moments from just hours ago, and the fire took over. 

Standing up in a smooth motion, his hands still in his pockets, he straightened to his full height, a little taller than the older man, and for the first time since entering the room, Oliver let the man see the absolute hatred rushing inside him, let the man witness the rage he lived with. He let the man see, and saw his eyes widen just slightly at the change in his expression.

Nobody, not anyone, told him what he could and couldn't do when it came to her, except Felicity herself. Nobody, especially not the man who had condemned them, had the right, and his gut churned with the need to clarify it, once an for all, fury filling in blood. 

He leaned forward deliberately, keeping his eyes straight on the man. 

"You want me to stay away from her?"

The man's cold eyes stayed on his, and Oliver felt the lava bubble under his skin, the flare from the heat tightening his chest, the loathing for the man burned upon his soul. A sneer curled his lips as he leaned forward more.

_"Make me."_

The moment the words left him, Oliver saw the man's eyes flare with anger. Oliver let him be angry, knowing that the anger was nothing compared to the rage right under his skin.

The man clearly grit his teeth, shaking his head. "I'm not a man you want on your bad side, Oliver." 

Oliver almost laughed at the irony. Almost. 

"Anything else?" Oliver asked softly, the warning clear in his words.

They stood for minutes, measuring each other, and Oliver nodded, walking towards the door.   

"Choose your enemies carefully, boy," the man's cold voice halted his feet. "It can cost you your life." 

Oliver turned his head, pinning the man with a mocking smile, unmoved by the threat, his own threat clear as day in his voice. "Exactly." 

Before the man could say another word, Oliver left the office, shutting the door behind him, and walked down the stairs, still in the dark about what the Captain remembered. 

* * *

The Captain sat at the head of the table, as he had previously, and Oliver looked around the dining hall. The hall was buzzing with people, the lights brightening the area even as darkness fell outside, and Oliver headed to an unoccupied table away from the center of the room. 

After the conversation in the morning, which had felt more like a confrontation, Oliver did not want to sit in the close vicinity of the man, especially since Felicity hadn't come for dinner, and the burn would become unbearable for that long without her calming presence. He still didn't know how it worked, confounded by the fact that the fire roared when he tried to get close to her but simmered when she held him in the presence of her father. It was baffling. 

Sitting down on the chair, Oliver sipped the water from his glass, feeling eyes on him. Exasperated, but on alert, he turned his back to the room, feeling the eyes on his back. 

Ignoring it, he dug into his food with gusto, hungry since he'd skipped the lunch, working on the laptop all day, and avoiding people in general. 

Another dinner plate came into his vision, and he looked up to see Digg take the chair in front of him, sitting down without a word. The confidence amused Oliver slightly. 

Digg smirked a little, as though he knew exactly what Oliver was thinking, and dug into his food as well. They at in silence for a few minutes, before Digg sat back, looking at him curiously. 

"I take it the meeting with Jay didn't go well?" 

Oliver sat back, sipping his water, and shrugged. "For him, I think."

He saw Digg's eyes light up with amusement as he smiled. Oliver watched for a second before speaking carefully. 

"How long have you known him?"

Digg's eyes cooled a little at the mention of the man. "A year. It's been a few years since I've been on the water. I joined the crew after my old one was decommissioned."

Oliver nodded, questions running through his mind. "What do you think of him?" 

Digg raised his eyebrows at his bluntness, slightly surprised that Oliver had asked outright, and Oliver returned the gaze, waiting. 

Sighing, he replied. "He's a good captain. Fair with the crew. Cool under pressure."

The "but" hung in the air, and Oliver waited patiently, seeing Digg's eyes flicker to the head table. 

After a second, he spoke. "There's just something _off_  about him though." 

"Off?" Oliver asked, his curiosity piqued. 

Digg didn't remove his eyes from the other table. "It's the way he's with Felicity."

Oliver stilled. "What do you mean?"

Digg looked back at him, considering him for a long minute before elaborating.

"I've seen a lot of parents who've left their kids and seen them meet. But these two," he shook his head. "It's just, when you see them talk, it is beyond cold. It's more than bitterness, you know. Like she blames him for something a lot more than leaving. And he's just cold. Not guilty. Not wanting forgiveness. Just cold. I don't get it, man."

Lead settled in Oliver's stomach, knotting it at the information. He knew Felicity remembered, even if she was not conscious about it. It didn't surprise him that she would feel that way for the man. But the older man being cold to her stilled him. He didn't want the man close to her, anywhere near her, anywhere where she was even in the range of his hatred. The Captain was not a man to have on his bad side, in his own words. Oliver didn't want Felicity on any side at all. 

"That was a brave thing you did today."

Digg's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he focused on the man. "Huh?"

"Saving Felicity."

There was no other choice for him. He would always save her. Or die trying. The burn flared at the memories.

Digg looked at Oliver contemplatively for a long minute, scrutinizing him, before he spoke. "Look man, I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but you need to be careful. With the attempts on her life, it's getting dangerous."

Oliver ignored the comment, steering the topic, getting the anger inside him just at the thought of the attempts on her life under control. "Who do you think threw her overboard?"

Digg ran a hand over his face, looking tired. "I don't know, man. There are so many people on this ship. My guess is as good as yours."

Which left them nowhere. Not a place Oliver wanted to be where her safety was concerned.

Inhaling deeply, Oliver stood up from the table as Digg did, nodded at him, and turned to leave. He saw Slade and Jay watching him from the head table, and walked out, ignoring them.

Feeling the need for a walk and fresh air, he headed up the stairs to the open deck, closing the door behind him, and strode out. The stars blanketed the dark sky, the sea breeze gentle on his heated skin, and Oliver walked towards the railing, letting his mind wander. 

The Captain either knew like he did, or felt like Felicity did. Oliver didn't know which it was. And as he leaned against the railing, watching the current on the waves, another thought came to him. 

Could the Captain have been the one to throw her? 

Oliver knew the man had no remorse, he knew the man had no qualms about killing his own child again and again, and he didn't remember seeing the Captain anywhere near her to ask for her well-being that morning. Could he have? But it didn't make sense. If the culprit wanted the trip to be cancelled, and the Captain was him, then why even allow this journey? Why let Felicity come aboard at all? And why warn Oliver to stay away from her? 

The sound of laughter broke through his thoughts and Oliver looked to the left, towards the back deck where the sounds were coming from. Puzzled, he pushed away from the railing, and slowly walked towards the back, going through the narrow space in the sides, hearing multiple voices the closer he got. 

He came to a stop as he stepped on the deck, blinking at the scene before him. 

Roy, Sara and Digg sat with Felicity in a circle on the floor, laughing and talking, and Oliver felt a pang go through his chest as he stood alone, looking at the familiar way they teased each other. His gaze, after perusal, came to rest on Felicity, drinking her in like he hadn't seen her in years. She sat cross-legged on the wooden board, her hair up in a messy knot, her legs covered in some sort of loose pants, a tank top covering her small torso, baring a strip of tantalizing flesh in between the two, the dimples in her back making his skin heat even more. He stood there, watching the crinkles around her nose as she laughed, the same pealing sound he had memorized in each life, her skin flushed from the joy. Watching her, so happy with the family she had created, a family he was no part of, Oliver felt his chest tighten. 

And then, sensing him like he knew she could, she turned and looked at him. 

And she smiled wider. 

The knot in his chest loosened. 

She extended her hand, inviting him silently- into her life, her family, herself. Her hand stretched, she waved her fingers, urging him again. 

Oliver took a deep breath and walked forward. 

The rest of the group noticed him, and nobody stiffened, which was progress of sorts. 

Felicity pat the space beside her with a small hand and Oliver swallowed, suddenly nervous to be this close to her. Feeling eyes on him, he sat down cross-legged, and looked around the group. 

Nobody said anything for a second, and then Sara spoke, looking at Digg, smirking, continuing the conversation from before he had interrupted.

"How do you have no idea about this stuff?" 

Digg sighed loudly. "I had obviously heard of it, I just never wanted the details." 

Confused, Oliver looked at them, and noticing the look, Felicity informed him. "We were talking about sea legends."

"Basically, Digg has spent years at sea and never known the legends," Sara stated him, giving Digg a teasing look. "How did you manage that?"

Digg nodded. "I know one though."

Felicity chimed in. "Do tell."

"There was this legend about a pirate," Digg began. "He disappeared with a woman and it's said that now he haunts the place. The man was notorious alive. Now, he's a notorious ghost." 

Roy chuckled. "I'd say. Though, wait a minute," he turned to Felicity. "Isn't that the legend of the island? What was his name again?" 

"Albatross," Felicity replied softly. 

His breath hitched as he looked at her sharply. Albatross. Him. 

Closing his eyes for a second, Oliver stayed silent, just listening. 

"He was more than just notoriety, Digg," Felicity spoke quietly. "There is a lot more to him than that."

Oliver's throat tightened.  

"You've romanticized him, Fell," Sara spoke. "There is nothing more about the man who terrorized and murdered people left, right and center. The only reason he is even a legend is because of his sudden coincidental disappearance."

His heart sank, realizing how cruel he had been, realizing that Sara wasn't lying.

Oliver saw Felicity shake her head even before Sara was done speaking. "It's not just that. There are sources that say he saved a woman in the month before reaching shore. The last his crew saw of them was walking away together. And then they disappeared. And then the island disappeared? How is that a coincidence?"

Roy said from opposite them. "Maybe it is." 

Oliver saw her lean forward, her voice infusing with passion as she spoke. "No, it's not. He saves a woman and they are never seen again. Then the island vanishes and people say his ghost haunts the place. Why would he be haunting it unless he had something tying him to that island? It was the woman, don't you see?"

She had no idea how right she was. 

"You've romanticized him," Sara pointed out. "Whoever he was, he also had a lot of treasure that went down, remember? Maybe he is tied to the place for that. He _was_ one cruel bastard."

"I can't deny that, but I just know this is more than that," Felicity whispered. "Why didn't he return to the ship? Why was the woman never seen again?"

"Maybe they ran away together," Digg surmised.

Oliver pursed his lips, his heart aching at the expression on her face, aching at the desperation he saw on her face to make someone understand the certainty she felt. She already knew so much, she just couldn't remember. His throat tightened, needing to tell her that _she_ was the woman. They had been together till the end, her fingers on his wrist.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and inhaling deeply, Oliver observed her. He lifted his fingers to his right wrist, rubbing the spot quietly, keeping his eyes on her, and saw her gaze flicker to the motion of his hand. Her eyes came to his hand and stayed. She kept looking at his hand, at his fingers on his wrist, over the spot she had marked for an eternity.

And her hand lifted to her ear almost in a daze.

His heart clenched.

She remembered. A tremulous smile lifted his lips as he saw her rub her ear, her body remembering what her mind did not, his fingers hurting to touch the skin, the burn reminding him not to.

Felicity spoke, in that almost dazed voice, her eyes unwavering on his wrist and fingers on her piercing.

"The man lived all his life escaping authorities, never dying. And then he saved one woman and disappeared forever. The land he disappeared on disappeared. I'm not romanticizing him, Sara. Something terrible happened on that island, to him and the woman. I know it in my gut."

Oliver focused on his breathing, the burn roaring inside his lungs, memories washing over him even as he gazed at her.

He heard Digg get up and bid them a good night, then heard Sara and Roy shuffle away. He heard them leave, but he stayed beside her, mesmerized, watching her play with her piercing, her eyes still on his wrist.

The deck quietened, completely silent except for the sounds of waves lapping at the ship, and the sounds of their breathing, her soft scent wafting up to him as he sat with her. After long, long minutes, he saw her sit up, her chin lifting in determination, and her eyes locked with his. Her blue, aquatic eyes. Her beautiful eyes, so full of life. Eyes that he had seen relinquish their hold on her life more times than he could count.

He saw the questions swirling in those eyes, as she looked up at him for a long moment, and then her hand reached out.  

Oliver's heart stuttered as her fingers tentatively brushed his wrist before returning, her thumb finding his spiked pulse, her fingers wrapping around the flesh so familiarly his lungs seized. 

Her eyes gazed into his for long seconds, the soft look in them so deep, so beckoning that he felt himself drawn to it. His skin flared with the fire, sweat beading on his forehead and rolling down his back as he let himself take this pleasure, take this moment for himself. 

And then, he felt her tug on his wrist. 

Oliver looked at her, his heart thundering, as she pulled his hand up slowly, hesitantly, almost as if testing how far she could take him.

She placed it on her ear. 

His pulse skidded as the fire blazed, and his fingers shook, trembling, seeing the way she was watching him, waiting for him to touch, her hand still on his wrist. 

Oliver gave in. To the pull that had been clawing inside him for days, to the gravity she had become for decades. Oliver gave in, his fingers taking the soft flesh of her ear, rubbing it like he always had, tracing the shell he knew like the back of his hand, the rough pad of his fingers catching on her soft skin. 

He saw her eyes close, her jaw trembling as her hand gripped his wrist, and his breath faltered, watching her face in the moonlight, almost back in time to right when they had first met centuries ago. 

Her eyes opened, looking up at him from behind those glasses, big and wide and beautiful sapphire, shining with realization, her lips trembling. 

"I know you." 

The whispered words made his eyes close, his heart pounding in his chest, her soft voice making him smile because she knew him. She always had.

He opened his eyes, something inside him moved in this quiet moment, the moment he had never thought he'd have with her, the moment he'd lived in nothing but dreams.

"You know me," he admitted softly, their gazes locked. 

She raised her other hand, her soft fingers slowly touching his face, tracing his eyebrows, his nose, his lips. His breath rushed out as she cupped his jaw, blinking up at him, holding him. They just sat there like that for minutes, just watching each other, and he rubbed her ear because she had wanted him to, because he could, because he had lived and died wanting to feel her flesh.

It lasted for moments, until the pain in his flesh became too much to bear, the burn lapping right under his skin, ready to char him. Regret acute in his gut, he pulled his hand back, letting his fingers trace her soft, soft jaw, and pushed up to his feet. 

She stood up as well, never breaking their gaze, tilting her head up to keep watching him. 

"Why didn't you tell me about the shark?" 

Oliver inhaled, tamping down the flames in his chest, and just gazed back at her, knowing he had no answer to give. 

The soft moment changed with his silence. He saw her eyes narrow for a second before she spoke. "I don't know what's going on here, Oliver. I don't know why a man I've never met in my life would want to become shark meal to save me. I don't know why I know you'll always save me. I don't know. And it would have been okay except you know what?" 

She took a step into his personal space. "I know that you know. I know you know what's happening, and I know you know why."

Oliver saw her narrow her eyes dangerously, and felt slight amusement wash over him at her ire, at the way she was looking him up. And then, she blinked, her eyes going soft again, and whispered. 

"Tell me, Oliver." 

The amusement died. He shook his head. 

Felicity sighed and stepped back, turning to walk away from him. His heart sank as he watched her go, his body on fire, his throat tight. 

And right at the edge of the deck, she paused, stopping, and turned to him, her eyes on his, and his heart stuttered at the look in her eyes. 

"I'll jump after you too, you know," she murmured quietly, making breath catch.

"Felicity..." Oliver spoke, not knowing what else to say, not knowing how to encompass everything any other way.

She shook her head.

"Every time I think of it, of how you saved me without telling me, of how ready you were to die, I know I should thank you. But something inside me stops me, and it tells me something else. Something inside me tells me something _completely_ else that I don't understand, but I don't have to because it's just there." 

Oliver pursed his lips, his heart aching at the honesty on her face, waiting for her to speak. 

Felicity looked at him, and spoke before turning away, her words hitting him in a place she couldn't have fathomed, her words cutting him deeper than any blade, her words echoing in the void inside him over his many lives. 

"I'd rather die with you." 

Oliver watched her walk away, his heart bleeding, because she had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Do let me know.
> 
> Check out my other stories if you liked this. 
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	8. Gales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> The response to this story is blowing me away! Seriously, the enthusiasm and the feedback is so stunning and I'm so grateful for all of it. Thank you so much! As I have been saying, the schedule has been blown up by real life these past weeks and I apologize so much for it. While I cannot promise a day for this story, I can promise it'll be updated every week, as soon as I get the time. Thank you!
> 
> Also, check out a trailer that [CaptainSummerDay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSummerDay/pseuds/CaptainSummerDay/works) made for this story [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAbBjhue3ck). Seriously, it's so absolutely amazing!
> 
> Here is the next chapter. Stuff happens. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> _Don't forget to drop me your thoughts. I love hearing from you!_
> 
> _Happy reading!!!_

_His lungs burned as he pushed his feet forward, his eyes glued to the roof of the building where she stood._

_He ran like he had never run before, ignoring the protest in his legs, never daring to blink lest he miss something, his body heating as sweat coated his flesh. But she stood still on the roof, right near the edge, looking at him as he ran closer and closer, the man behind her holding the gun to her head looking at his approaching form._

_He ran, closer and closer, his body burning with the need to get her away from the edge, the harsh sound of his breathing overlapped by the blood pounding in his ears, his chest tight with dread and gut clenched in fear as he watched her._

_The madman said something to her, digging the gun into her pale flesh and she closed her eyes._

_He ran faster, faster than he had ever thought himself capable, his body on the verge of collapsing. But he ran, kept running, almost there, almost close enough to save her._

_And her eyes opened, tears rolling down her cheeks. Panic set in. No. No. **No!**_

_"Please," he chanted to himself, praying to anybody who would listen. "Please. Please. Please."_

_The gun dug more into her flesh; her eyes found his. His steps faltered, his heart pounding, throat tightening because even as he prayed, he knew. He knew and so did she. They both knew and that knowledge made a cry wrench deep out of his chest, coming from a place he had not known he had, hot tears rolling down his own cheeks._

_His cry mutilated into a scream of terror, of knowing what was to come, of feeling his entire body freeze as he burned._

_She kept her eyes on his, and slowly, never removing her soft gaze rife with regrets, she stepped off the roof._

* * *

"NO!"

His own garbled scream woke him up suddenly, the sweat covering his body suddenly cooling in the wind, his chest heaving as reality set back in. He looked around the darkened room with wild eyes, feeling that wildness throb in his veins with every beat of his heart, his breaths loud in the silent room. He pushed his hands into his hair, gripping the strands to the point of pain, the frustration, the resignation mingling inside him. His jaw trembled, the lick of fire under his skin making his eyes water. He was so tired. So, so tired of it all. He wanted to sleep for just one night. Just one fucking night knowing he wouldn't wake up like this. Just one fucking knight of knowing no dreams, no nightmares, no nothing. Just sleep. Just black abyss of peace. Just one night.

He had spent twenty-eight years telling himself he would get it, after every single night of waking up with terror invading his bones. He had tried, when he had been younger, to not wake up at all. But his own mind was his foe. His own body was his foe. And he was but a mere mortal with a curse on an endless loop.

His hands tightened in his hair, pulling at it as he tried to breathe evenly.

Sliding out of the bed, he walked towards the bathroom, as was his ritual, and turned on the water. Splashing the cool water on his face and neck, feeling the burn slowly subside as his breathing slowed down, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Oliver Queen. He didn't know how he hadn't lost his sanity till now. Perhaps that was a part of the curse too - to remember every fucking detail of every second. A wry chuckle escaped his lips, the bitterness washing over him. For one second, he harbored the thought of going to the Captain's chamber and setting him on fire, just to make him feel even a tenth of what he lived with every day. For a second, he harbored the thought of breaking every bone in that body, to make him live even a little of the pain he felt as he watched her die, over and over again. For a second. But the second was over and Oliver exhaled deeply, shaking his head as he got back into the bed. 

Pushing a hand over his head, he stared at the plain white ceiling, feeling the burn breathe under his skin like a dormant monster, ready to wake up any second. He stared up at the ceiling, and focused on his breathing, feeling the cool wind on his skin, letting it soothe him. 

Despite wanting to, he knew he couldn't kill the Captain. Not yet anyways. Not until he knew exactly how much he remembered and what his deal was. He was close, so very close to freeing himself, freeing her, from the curse. He couldn't let rash emotions tamper with it. Not now. 

Oliver blinked up at the ceiling, remembering the moment on the deck. He wanted those moments. He wanted to hold her hand and kiss her lips without the knowledge of their histories weighing him down. He wanted to make her smile and hear her laugh without the threat of his constant burn living under his skin. He wanted her. 

Felicity.

His chest expanded with a deep breath at the thought. He had let himself get caught up in the moment on the deck, let himself reveal more than he had ever intended to. He had let himself drown in those blue eyes, the fiery aqua that had never changed in all their lives; let himself drown in their own bubble. He had savored it. But he couldn't let himself drown anymore, not if he wanted to keep them afloat.

His heart clenched as he realized he'd have to keep her away from him. Her safety was paramount, and he would talk to Digg and Roy when he had to about it. But not her. Getting close to her before the curse was broken would endanger her even more.

He had to keep her safe. Just for a few more days. And once the curse was gone he would explain it all to her.

Nodding to himself, knowing this was the right thing to do, he closed his eyes, keeping the memory of her skin on his, savoring it, while knowing he would not allow himself that luxury again. 

Despite what he'd told the Captain, he needed to stay away from Felicity. He would. 

* * *

Three days.

For three days, he had successfully avoided her.

For three days. What he hadn't realized was how gruesome a task it would be.

For three days, Oliver had either worked beside Digg, or stayed in his room. He had eaten his meals with Digg or alone, had gone off to work with the crew the moment she had walked towards him, and busied himself with work on his laptop when he'd known she would be up on the deck with her friends in the evenings. He had even watched movies to avoid going out and occupy his time. 

For three days, he had completely avoided her, getting whatever updates he needed about her safety from Digg or Roy, who had surprisingly warmed towards him. Not that he was complaining. And the more he had avoided her, the more intent she had seemed on being noticed. Everywhere he'd turned, she'd been there - talking to Digg, or strolling with Sara, or working on her tablet. He had wanted nothing more than to just sit beside her and listen to her talk, see the light in her eyes and life in her hands as she explained things. But he hadn't. He'd acknowledged the burn in his body and walked the other way. Every single time.

And he knew, because he knew her, that she was getting angry. He would too, in her place. But he was doing it for them, for her. He sighed.

He had also seen the Captain smirk at him the first night in the dining hall, seeing how he had avoided Felicity. The man had thought, as far as he could tell, that Oliver had heeded his warning and backed down. He had been tempted. Very tempted to go to their table and grab her hand, just to show her father that threats didn't deter him, not where she was concerned. But he had looked away and swallowed his water, listening to Digg tell him about the crew members, even as his blood had boiled. And she had been watching him entire night. That first night had been curious. He knew she'd been wondering about his behavior.

The next night, after another almost successful day of ignoring her, her eyes had been hurt as she'd watched him. That had gutted him. The urge to go and pull her into his arms, just to soothe away that look from her face had been immense. But he had gripped the table and stayed put, letting the burn keep him down.

The third night, though, had been pure fury. From the flush on her face to the fire in her eyes, every line of her rigid body had told him, very clearly, that she was mad as hell. And surprisingly, seeing her as she'd shot daggers at him with her expressive eyes had been equal parts scary and arousing. That was how he'd thought the trip would go - alternating between the three. 

But day four came with something he hadn't anticipated.

Oliver sat in the dining hall, with Digg beside him, as usual, watching her laugh at something Roy had said, a frown marring his brows. He had woken up, his heart heavy, sighing at how he'd have to avoid her again. But he'd never had the opportunity. He'd seen her in the morning, smiling with Digg, and the moment he had stepped on deck, she had turned and left, leaving him with a slightly amused Digg. Later again, when he'd been talking to a crew member, he'd seen her wave at the man and walk past, not even sparing him a glance. 

Oliver had frowned, as the incidents had piled up, and now, sitting in the hall, having had dinner, his frowned deepened. She hadn't looked at him once during the dinner, not a single stolen glance, not a single angry glare. Nothing. And it was bothering him more than he let on.

He sat in silence, looking at her as she laughed and grinned and ate, completely unaware of his gaze on her.

"Look, man," Oliver heard Digg speak and turned to face him. The older man, who'd become a trusted friend in the past week, was looking at him with piercing dark eyes, a slightly amused smirk on his face, his tone exasperated.

"What?" Oliver asked, feeling his hackles rise up, irritation he'd been harboring the entire day flaring up.

Digg shook his head. "Don't start a game you can't play, man."    

The irritation intensified as he scowled. "What do you mean?" 

He saw Digg raise his eyebrows at the tone, chewing on the last bite of his bread. He looked towards where Felicity sat with Sara and Roy, and shrugged again. 

"See, I don't want to know what's the deal with you two, but whatever you've been doing has sure ruffled her feathers last couple of days," Digg said, pushing away his plate, his eyes on Oliver. "And now she's ruffling yours." 

"There's no feathers being ruffled anywhere," Oliver ground out, his teeth clenched. 

Digg chuckled, getting up from his chair. "Tell that to your face, man." 

Oliver felt himself glaring at the man as he walked away, leaning back in his chair, trying to clear his face of all expressions. He didn't want to think he was that egotistical, but he was. He knew he was. He knew he deserved it, and he knew he had been the one to start avoiding her for three days. But she had been ignoring him for only one and he was in knots. He didn't like it. He didn't like the way it was making him feel. He didn't like the way her complete refusal to acknowledge his existence, his existence for her, bothered him. He didn't like it _at all._  

He turned in his seat again, his eyes wandering to the now empty table. When did she leave?

He let his eyes roam around the room, seeing only other crew members there, and sighed, getting up. Heading towards the hall, he pushed his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, keeping his head down, deciding to take a walk on the deck before confining himself to his room.

He walked down the empty corridors, familiar with the layout now, letting the muted lights mellow his mood. Climbing the steps slowly, he opened the door, walking out onto the moonlit deck, illuminated by small lights on the sides. He breathed in deeply, standing in the center of the spacious area, closing his eyes, letting the wind caress his face. His nose twitched, scenting the ocean, his senses somehow more acute. The wind was faster tonight, more acute too. Not enough to brew a storm but enough not be just a wind. It slowly surrounded him, whipping against his t-shirt, the coolness soothing against his ever present burn.

Oliver let out a breath, shaking his head at himself, at how messed up it all was. He had started avoiding her for her own good, for both of their good, knowing it was a shitty thing to do. He had no right to feel affronted because she retaliated in the same way. But boy, it disturbed him. He didn't need her to talk to him all the time, or even look at him. But completely ignoring him? Like he didn't exist? Like he wasn't even a blip on her radar when she was the entire radar for him? It made him want to shake her and make her notice.

He wanted her attention.

Scratch that. He wanted her singular attention. The kind of attention she didn't give anybody else. He wanted to learn the things he didn't know about her. He wanted to tell her of the things he already did.

Digg was right. His feathers were ruffled. They were more than ruffled, they were wrecked. Fuck.

The sound of a feminine giggle broke him out of his spiral. Her giggle.

A small smile came over his face before he tamped it down, the knowledge that he couldn't be that reason for that laughter irking him. He sighed and turned to go down to his room, before she could come to this part of the deck and corner him, or worse ignore him again. It was better this way. For both of them.

He started walking back towards the door, feeling the wild wind swirl around him with each step, hearing the sound of her hushed voice coming from somewhere from the back, from the other side. He was almost to the door when he heard her speak, and froze.

"I didn't know that, Jason! Thank you!"

And then she giggled again.

Who the _fuck_ was Jason?

Oliver stood silently, his hand on the door, his feet glued to the wooden boards, listening to her talk, just to ascertain whoever she was speaking to wasn't a threat. Or that's what he told himself at least.

"Seriously, I was really nervous to come talk to you." Oliver heard a male voice speak up, the tone soft, flirtatious, and acid roiled in his stomach, his teeth clenching before he knew it.

"You're sweet," he heard Felicity speak, slightly shyly, and his stomach turned. "You can talk to me if you like. I don't bite."

The man chuckled, and she giggled.  

The door handle bent in his hands. Oliver looked down at the metal, the disfigured metal, the fire licking under his skin mingling with a completely different kind of fire in his body, the kind of fire that made his stomach clench and his chest heavy, the kind of fire that made him bend door handles with rage, the kind of fire that made him feel an emotion he had never felt in his life, in any of his lives, not that he could recall.

Jealousy.

Pure, simple, unadulterated jealousy.

He didn't understand why they called it the green-eyed monster. It should be red. Like the blood he wanted to see come from this faceless bastard's nose when he punched him. He had no right. He had no fucking right but damn if that mattered.

She was his, in a way nobody understood, in a way universe had deemed it so for hundreds of years. And here was this faceless prick who thought for even one second that she was available. 

Oliver let go of the bent metal handle, breathing in and out slowly, telling himself to walk away, to quietly go down the stairs and go to his room because he had been ignoring her and she could spend her time with another guy if she wanted. But just the thought of her standing in someone else's personal space, just the thought of her smiling at them and looking at them with those eyes and that look, just the _thought..._  

His hands fisted. 

"So I was wondering," Oliver heard the man speak. "Would you like to see it tonight?" 

He saw red. The fire raged to a beast at the words. He'd had enough.

He was walking towards the back before he knew it, his steps angry, heat coursing through his veins, the wind reflecting his own mood, becoming his ally in that one second, his hands balled to fists beside him.

The back of the deck came into view, and he saw them, standing together. The man was taller than her, just a few inches, and stood way too close to her as she smiled up at him. She shouldn't be smiling up at him. He walked towards them, watching the way the man looked towards his approaching form and stiffened, his eyes widening at the glare Oliver knew he was giving him. The other man, boy, gulped slightly at Oliver's intimidating form, and looked back at Felicity.

"I'll... um... see you around," he stuttered before sprinting away.

Oliver watched him go, completely disappear from view, before feeling himself relax just a bit, and turning to her.

Only to find her walking away too.

Gritting his teeth, he chased after her.

"We need to talk."

 

Not the best choice of words, but all he could manage at the moment. He saw her pause at his words, her back ramrod straight, the curves of her body stiff.

"Oh no, we don't," she replied without turning, and resumed walking again.

"Who is he?" he asked before he could stop it, and saw her still. She turned around, her eyes furious and lips in a straight line, and tilted her head back, pinning him with her turquoise gaze.

"He is a man," she ground out, "who was offering to show me something tonight." 

Oliver felt his anger flare again. "Show you what?" 

"That is neither your business nor your concern," she spoke, her tone stern. "How I spend my nights doesn't matter to you." 

_"The hell it doesn't,"_ he grit out, feeling the words come out low, angry, his chest tight. 

Felicity looked at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed, before shaking her head and turning away. His hand shot out before he could stop it, his fingers wrapping around her arm, whirling her on the spot as he stepped into her personal space, pulling her flush against his body. 

"Don't you dare manhandle me," he heard her lash out angrily at him. 

Oliver pulled her closer, feeling her breasts crush against his chest, his heart pounding as something heady filled his body, the sensation of her chest, rising and falling rapidly against his abs, the flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck, the darkening of her eyes as her lips parted, all filling him with that heady feeling. The burn inside him intensified, but he ignored it, focusing on her, on her flushed skin and her blown pupils, on the anger in her gaze masking the heat in her body, on the staccato he knew her heart was beating in. Because his was too.

He focused on her, on her eyes, on the shades and flecks he had spent hours memorizing, before his gaze drifted to her lips. Her lush lips. Lips that she usually painted a bright color. Lips that were completely bare now, parted, soft, inviting.

His chest expanded as he inhaled, the scent of the ocean mixing with the essence of her, something sweet and flowery but her, so very her. The scent went to his head, fanning the flames under his skin to a blaze.

He knew he should step back. He knew he should walk away and pretend like this didn't happen, and go one ignoring her.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

"Don't you dare," she uttered, bringing his gaze back to hers, the fury in her eyes mingling with anticipation, the kind he could feel beating right with his heart. "You come here high handed just because a guy was speaking to me. But you know what? You don't have the right. I can talk to any guy I wish to and I can let any guy show me whatever on any night I want to and you cannot do a thing about it."

Oliver stayed silent, letting her rile herself up, watching her as she did, the wind whipping her hair around in the air, the moonlight illuminating her flushed skin. He listened to her talk, the burn inside him contained, another kind of heat sitting low in his belly, pressed against her breasts, feeling her nipples stiffen against his flesh.

She continued talking, in a low, threatening tone. "You had no right to chase him away just now, and you will not in the future too, so you go on ignoring me and I'll keep myself happy with other men."

He just looked at her, seeing her trying to believe what she said. She knew, in her heart, she belonged to him, with him. And he had only been delaying the inevitable, not denying it.

He was done. Consequences be damned. He had lifetimes of regrets - he wasn't going to carry more. 

"There will be no other men," he stated quietly, his eyes never moving from hers. 

He saw her eyes flare with anger. "Oh, really? And who died and made you king?"

A tickle of amusement washed over him. She continued. "This ship is full of men. I am a single, fairly attractive girl. You do the math, genius. I'll do as I please and you'll do nothing to..."

The rest of her words drowned against his lips. 

Just pressed together. 

They both stilled completely for one moment, that small pressure on their lips enough to halt everything else. For one moment. And suddenly everything moved. 

The fire that had rested inside him burned itself into a frenzy, radiating out from where her lips touched his, every single muscle in his body heating, burning, almost to the point of combustion. He ignored it. 

His hand slid into her whipping hair, cradling the back of her head and tilting it back as he leaned in closer, the other hand going under her tank top, pulling her into his body by the waist, feeling her soft, familiar skin under his rough hand. Her own hands were busy, one sluicing into his hair and tugging him down into her and the other sliding under his t-shirt. Her small, cool hand touched the stripe of burned flesh right at his waist, from the incident in his childhood, tracing the raised flesh with nimble fingers, their lips just pressed together, not moving, not deepening the kiss in any way at all. 

Her fingers worked on his waist, tracing and shaping the old scar, and he felt her mumble against his lips. 

"How did I know that'd be there?"

Because she had sensed it. His heart pounded as he pulled her face up again in answer, the burn worsening with each breath. 

And then he felt it. 

Her tongue, peeking out from behind her lips, swiping across his softly, tentatively. And with that small swipe, the burn, which had almost become unbearable, subsided. Stunned, Oliver opened his mouth, taking a hold of her lower lip and sucking on it, hearing her breathing fasten and her breasts heave against his abs, her fingers digging into his back and on his head, feeling the burn cool down even more, making the feel of the wind on his skin and her flesh on his even more acute. 

"Oliver..." she muttered softly into his mouth, and he felt the blood in his body rush south, the soft sigh hardening his flesh in his pants, and knowing she could feel it against her, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, feeling the soft skin under his rough finger, and slanted his head, finally, completely against her.

Her mouth opened willingly under his, her tongue coming out again, boldly, to caress his lips, and his breath caught in his chest, unable to understand how he wasn't burning like he was before, how a simple kiss from her had contained it in his skin. But he didn't care, because she was there, right in his arms, and kissing him wantonly, in a way that spiked his pulse.

He let his tongue meet hers, touching it with the tip of his, and heard her moan muffle against his mouth. The garbled sound made his heart race faster, his fingers tightening over her, pulling her closer and he sucked on her tongue for a second, feeling the mewling noises coming right from her throat, drowning against his lips as she kissed his back fervently, arching her back to get closer to him, her stomach rubbing against his erection in a way that made him groan. She did it again, deliberately, and he rocked against her, feeling the tendrils of pleasure shoot down his spine, in a manner it never had before. The burn had never been so generous before. The burn had never been pushed so down before. He didn't know what it was, but he grabbed it with both hands and took the pleasure he had never had in his life without a cost.

Her hand came up from his waist as she stood on her toes, looping her arms around his neck, tasting him for all he was worth just as he tasted her, tasted the chocolate she had had after dinner on her tongue, tasted the sweetness in the depths of her mouth, tasted her. Gales of wind just swirled around them, inside them, as they kissed like the lost lovers they were, finally finding each other again in the moonlight, their scents wrapped around each other, their arms locking them together, hips occasionally rocking, lips slanting, tongues tangling.

They kissed, for a long, long time, they just kissed.

Oliver knew his heart was pounding faster than it ever had before, knew this was his first kiss in every way that mattered, knew that it shouldn't have happened. Not like this. But for the life of him, he couldn't regret it. Not when she was pliable in his arms, wanton against him, panting slightly as their lips parted.

Their lips parted. And locked again. And again. And again.

He didn't know how long they kissed for. But he knew one thing. These were the lips he had kissed for an eternity. These were the lips he would happily kiss for another eternity. This moment, right here, was worth all the burn and all the pain. It had been worth it when he had stopped her on the beach that first lifetime. It was worth now. Sipping from her was the elixir he never knew he needed, and now that he'd tasted it, he knew he would never let go. Kissing her was his small heaven in the life of hell. It was the cool water in the agony of fire. It was everything.

A throat clearing had them parting their mouths, their chests heaving and pants heavy, their eyes finding each other for a small second before they turned to face the intruder, still wrapped around each other.

Sara smirked at the two of them, her arms crossed across her chest, her eyebrows raised. Upon seeing her, Felicity tried to take a step back but he held still, not letting go.    

"The sound of someone having sex drew me here," Sara teased, her eyes settling on Felicity. "I should have come back two minutes later maybe?"

Oliver looked down at Felicity, seeing her flush a little as she kept her face cool, addressing her friend. "You must be having the wrong kind of sex if all you do is pant. I'm sure I'd be screaming."

Amusement washed over Oliver as he heard her speak, even as she squirmed slightly in his arms, not looking up at him at all. 

Sara chuckled. "I'll wait for you downstairs."

Felicity nodded and Oliver watched Sara leave before turning back to her. She looked back at him, her hair messed from his fingers, her lips completely swollen and another wave of arousal hit him. He leaned in, pecking her on her lips once, twice, before pulling back, seeing her eyes slightly glazed as she evened her breaths. 

"You know I'll throw you overboard myself if you avoid me again, right?" she asked softly, blinking up at him, the threat in her voice belied by the vulnerable look on her face. 

Oliver felt himself melt a little as he gazed at her. "And then you'll jump to rescue me, right?" he asked, amused. 

She rolled her eyes, stepping out of his embrace, smacking him once on the chest. "I'm serious. You don't ignore me again."

He nodded. "And you don't let other guys offer to show you something again."

Felicity laughed at that, combing her hair with her fingers, her eyes glinting with mischief. "He was actually offering to show me something. It's an antique compass that has been in his family for generations. He told me about it and I was curious." 

Oliver blinked at her, his lips pursing even as the knots in his chest loosened. He shrugged, not saying anything. 

She grinned at him, before standing on her tiptoes, and gripping his t-shirt in her hand, pulling him down. 

"But if you want to show me something," she spoke softly, her eyes darkening a little again, her lips breaths away from his, "just let me know."

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away, winking at him once before walking towards the door. Oliver watched her go, and walk down the stairs, and exhaled deeply. He ran his fingers through his hair, the hair she had gripped in her passion, and shook his head at himself. This definitely complicated things, especially since they were together now and that meant she was in danger. But this time, they would get through. Because there was no other way. Because he was tired of just one small slice of heaven in the midst of hell. He needed her, all of her. 

Before he could think more, his eyes wandered, of its own volition, to the cabin on the upper deck. 

And his gaze collided with dark eyes. Watching him. How had he not sensed that? The Captain stood at the window to his office, watching Oliver with those dark eyes, and Oliver knew, deep in his bones, that he had witnessed everything, that he had seen him kiss his daughter. But how the hell had he not sensed his eyes? 

Oliver stared back at the man evenly, never letting his eyes waver, and as they stared, the burn, which had been lulled into a sleep by Felicity, woke up with a vengeance, flaring to life and roaring to a blaze in his flesh. Oliver didn't wince as it did, but just stared at the man. And saw him smile. An evil smile. 

His gut clenched, and with sudden clarity, he knew.

Deep to his bones, he knew.  

The man remembered. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	9. Zephyr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thank you so much for the remarkable patience and love you have shown this story. I had no idea when I started it how many of you would come to love this version of Olicity, and I am very, very happily surprised. And I'm thrilled at how much you enjoyed their first kiss. So thank you! There are still comments I have to respond to on the previous chapter and I will ASAP, but do keep leaving me those and letting me know your thoughts. :)
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_She had been missing for days, and he had put everything he was into trying to find her, just a trace of her, just anything to hold onto to keep the madness that threatened to engulf him at bay._

_He stood beside the window, gazing at the rain falling down on the earth, when he felt it. That burn under his flesh flaring to life on its own, the sudden agony taking him by surprise with its intensity, never having been so bad before. The fire licked right under his skin, crackling, making his flesh burn and the pain take over._

_He crumpled to his knees in front of the window, eyes watching the cool raindrops splatter just a few feet from him as he burned there on the ground, his entire being consumed by that burn. He felt the tears leave his eyes, trailing down his cheeks to the floor as he burned from the inside out, not because of the pain, not because of the knowledge of his inevitable death, but because in that moment of burning, he knew._

_She was gone. He wished he could've been with her, could've seen her, told her how much he loved her, told her she was everything._

_She was gone. And he couldn't resent fate, even as he screamed silently, for taking him to her._

* * *

The burning had intensified. 

Ever since he had given in to his urges and kissed Felicity, ever since he had tasted the mouth he had been meant to taste for an eternity, ever since she had dowsed the flames inside him, the burning had intensified. So much so that wearing clothes had started to become frustrating. He'd somehow managed to make the entire day working with Digg outside, slowly feeling the burn intensify and his clothes becoming hindering. He could've gone without his shirt, since a lot of men on the crew did, but he'd known his scars and burns would only pique people's curiosity. Their rich sponsor having a body full of mysterious scars. It would've inspired questions he had no desire to answer. So he hadn't gone shirtless. But a few minutes ago, after making an excuse and escaping to his room, wearing the fabric, as it clung to his sweat-soaked skin that felt it would burst into flames any second, Oliver didn't know what to do.

He winced at the pain, gripping the back of the chair, mercifully alone in his cabin, and stripped the drenched shirt off his torso, turning the overhead fan on to its full speed. The wind hit his overheated flesh in sharp contrast, making him shiver even as the burn sustained.

He should have known.

He should have fucking _known._

The curse would punish him for taking that small moment of reprieve from the pain. It would punish him for even glimpsing at heaven in his living hell.

He had kissed her, for long, long beautiful moments, and now he was paying the price. He didn't regret it, except this burning was scaring him. It had never been so bad before. It almost seemed to have a life of its own inside him, twisting and throbbing under his skin, running through his veins, imprisoning his heart. The burning had intensified and it was scaring the hell out of him. Because this only meant one thing. The clock had started ticking. Without knowing, he had put something in motion last night. And now the time was running out. 

And that was, Oliver realized in retrospect, the exact reason why the Captain had smiled on the deck at him. Though he hadn't seen the man again after that, Oliver was certain the older man remembered everything. Which meant, since he had been the one to condemn them, that he'd known Oliver would be going through this pain exactly the way he was. That was why the bastard had smiled. God, he wished he could set the man on fire and watch him burn, slowly, very, _very,_ slowly. 

But right then, he couldn't think of anything beyond his own burn. The heat was clawing to get out, and try as he may to control it, Oliver whimpered slightly, feeling his chest constrict tightly with every breath he took, sweat clinging to his body, pain knotting in his gut. Was this it? Was this the universe laughing at his expense? To bring him so close to his release only to snatch it back? What would happen to Felicity if he died? It had always been her death before his. But were he to die before her, would she live? Would she survive? Or was she just as doomed to follow without even knowing why?

He couldn't think, even as the questions assaulted him. His heart hammered as sweat broke out over his forehead, his hands trembling where they gripped the chair. He had to get it under control somehow. He needed to fight this. For her. For them. He _had_ to. 

But for the life of him, he couldn't. His breath was coming in gasps, knees weakening even as he locked them to stand still, muscles tensing to the point of pain as the burn blazed even higher.

The sound of knocking broke through his haze of pain. 

"Oliver?"

His eyes clenched shut at the sound of her voice, her soft, husky voice wrapped around his name, the burn intensifying, as though sensing the source of his relief was nearby. He grit his teeth to contain the groan, unable to formulate a reply. 

The knocks came again. "Oliver, can I come in?"

 _Yes._ He needed her. He needed to see her one more time if this was his end. He needed to smell her, to take that with him. He needed her touch on his wrist one last time. 

 _No._ She couldn't see him like this. She would have questions and he couldn't answer them, not without risking her. She couldn't see his pain because he knew she would make it her own, take it on herself, all in a heartbeat. He couldn't give her his curse. The pain was his. Only his. Not hers. He would carry them both if her ignorance was blissful. 

"I'm coming in."

_No._

_Yes._  

He heard the door open, but his eyes remained closed, keeping the fire barely at bay. The sound of the door shutting came next and his blood roared in his ears, pounding where his fingertips gripped the chair. He felt the rays of the setting sun on his back from the window, felt the air swirling around him, trying to touch his skin but never really reaching the fire, felt the beat of his heart pulsating in every joint in his body.

It was all around him, cloaking him, consuming him.

And then he smelled her. The sweet, soft fragrance of her skin that had never changed over the lifetimes, that his entire being was attuned to.

The mellowed scent broke through the roaring blaze for a second, and he inhaled deeply, taking the scent in, making it a part of himself, trying to fan the flames down with it.

"Oliver?"

Her soft voice, filled with concern, came to him from the side, where he knew she stood.

Taking a deep breath, scrounging through every reserve of will power, he opened his eyes and looked at her, taking in her worried expression, her light hair falling in waves around her face, her beautiful blue eyes fixed on him from behind her ridiculous glasses.

He looked at her, and saw her close the distance between them within seconds till she stood right beside him.

Her head tilted back, she looked up at him beseechingly. "Tell me."

His eyes closed. He wished he could. With everything he was, he _wished_ he could tell her.

Placing her small hand on his bicep, she lightly caressed his skin with her fingers, stoking the fire even more. He clenched his jaw, not knowing how to move away from her.

"You're burning up!" she exclaimed, the panic in her voice clear even to his pain induced mind. "Let me get you something."

 _"No,"_ the guttural whisper left him before he knew it, her touch on his hand anchoring him even as it made him burn, and he knew he had to keep it there. 

She placed a hand on his jaw, turning his face towards her, her eyes wide, scared, on his. "Tell me what I can do."

He didn't know. The burn was taking his mind. He couldn't think. Everything started hurting, and he flinched.

"Oliver!"

 _Fuck._ He bent over the chair, heaving breaths, hating that she had to see him like this.

"Is there some medicine? Anything?" he heard her ask, heard her voice getting farther and farther away even as she stayed right there. "What can I do?"

Everything be damned.

He needed the burn to cool down or he'd die, right there. That couldn't happen. The burning had to cool.

Sweat slicked over his skin, and he straightened, looking at her.

"Kiss me," he managed to whisper, remembering how she had removed the pain. If he had to burn and die, he'd rather be selfish and die in her arms. 

She didn't even hesitate at his words, taking a hold of his sweaty jaw in both hands and rising on her toes, making his eyes clench shut against the pain that flared in warning of her proximity. He tried to ignore it.

She pressed her lips to his, not tentatively but boldly, with surety as though she had done this hundreds of times, and she had. She pressed her lips to his, slowly touching his mouth with her tongue, and the moment she did, everything just _calmed._  The burn subsided, compressing into a tiny ball right in his gut, nothing that he couldn't control. It was a tsunami one moment and a gentle wave the next. All because she kissed him.

A tear escaped his eyes, stunning him. Her small fingers felt that lone tear on his cheek, and keeping their mouths locked, she softly brushed it away. Oliver's heart clenched, his mouth trembling as he tried to remember the last time even he had wiped his own tears, on the rare occasion that the pain had become unbearable. _Never_. He didn't even know why it had escaped him then. Her mouth against his was warm, warming his entire body, simmering down the blaze, as she kept the kiss simple, knowing this was not about passion, not about hunger, but about relief.

She kissed his body into relief, his soul into existence, and held him together without even realizing what she did. He had asked and she had given, no questions asked. Oliver felt something inside him burst at her unconditional trust in him, even though she didn't know him.  

She pulled away after a few moments, licking her lips once, staring up at him with concerned eyes, only her blown pupils indicative of her slight arousal.

"Better?" she asked, and Oliver almost kissed her again for that simplicity.

He swallowed, nodding.

The sweat had cooled down on his body, now that the burn was in control.

She smiled slightly, taking a step away, and looked down at his bare torso. Her eyes mapped over his scarred skin, scars from his youth, scars from his days on the street, mixing with the wrong crowd. But her eyes roved over them, widening slightly as her skin flushed and she started wringing her hands, shifting on her feet.

"You're hot," she uttered, before her eyes widened even more, flying up to lock with his. "I meant temperature wise. Not that you aren't hot like this. You are. But I was thinking about your temperature. And your abs. Did I just say abs? Would you please put on a shirt? I can't talk to you with your abs staring at me..."

Something he rarely even felt anymore washed over him. Amusement. His lips twitched. She had always been a babbler.  

He didn't move from the spot, and she stared at his body some more, flushing some more, before taking a step back. 

"I had just come in to ask you about dinner," she spoke, her eyes finding his, before dropping again. "As in if you'd like to have dinner with me."

His eyebrows raised, warmth filling his chest. "Are you asking me on a date?" he asked softly, bringing her eyes back to his.

Her nose scrunched adorably, and she shrugged. "Maybe. We don't have a lot of options, and not that I'm buying. But we could sit together. Eat. Talk. And you could walk me to my room and leave me with a goodnight kiss?"

A chuckle left him before he could stop it. "It's a date."

She grinned, ogled him one last time, before opening the door and walking away. 

Oliver watched the door for a while, his smile dimming, knowing he owed her answers, especially after how she had seen him, at his worst, and what she had done for him. Shaking his head, he headed for the shower, to get ready for his date.

The burn simmered.

* * *

 

"So, how did you come to know about _Arcanum?_ "

Oliver leaned back in his chair, sipping water as she sipped red wine, her eyes on his, alight with questions, her skin flushed from the one glass she'd already consumed. The dining area was getting emptier. They'd long finished their dinner, talking about bits and pieces of their lives. She's told him about her mother, her amazing mother who had raised her single handed while juggling multiple jobs; about her first asshole of a boyfriend and her love for computers; about her passion for the lost island. And Oliver had watched her while she'd talked, enchanted by the life in every part of her, from hr moving lips to her waving hands to her bright eyes, falling even more under her spell. He'd talked too, about his life at the orphanage, a little about his business. 

He'd been aware, the entire time, of the multiple gazes glued to them throughout, and he doubted she hadn't been. For all her carefree nature, he knew how attuned she was to her surroundings, how observant. But she hadn't paid it any heed, and neither had he. But he had been aware. Digg had nodded at him before leaving with a smile. Sara had smirked and waved, and Roy had shrugged and followed. The hall had emptied, slowly, until only a handful people remained. 

Oliver shrugged in answer to her question. 

She sighed, her breasts heaving once under her soft red dress, her hair falling over one shoulder, exposing the line of her neck in the lights. 

Just as she opened her mouth to talk, a shadow fell over their table and the burn flared under his skin. Oliver didn't have to look to know who stood there. 

He saw Felicity stiffen in her chair, all the brightness from earlier dimming right before his eyes, and saw the tight mask of control that fell over her features.

"Jay," she spoke to the Captain, who stood beside their table, in a cool voice.

"Felicity," the older man replied, his eyes on Oliver. Oliver raised an eyebrow, staring back passively, ignoring the burn coming to life again in the presence of the man.

The Captain spoke to Felicity, his voice gruff, his dark eyes cold. "I think you should be careful about the kind of people you spend time with."

Oliver stayed silent, watching as Felicity raised her eyebrows, her voice even colder as she replied. "And I think you should stick your nose in your own business."

Pride filled him, at her fearlessness. He had always admired how she had kept that strength wrapped inside that tiny body, ready to cut anyone who dared come near her or who she loved without thought. 

The Captain glared at Felicity, his hands fisting beside him. "You can understand my concern, Felicity. We know nothing about the man."

"I know more about him that I know about you," she said without missing a beat. "And I don't think the advise of a man who abandoned his family in times of need would ever be high on my list. We agreed this trip was purely business. Let's stick to it." 

Oliver watched, bemused, as the Captain continued to glare at her, and she glared right back, not blinking once, not lowering her gaze once, not even tensing once. The older man spared him a glance, before walking away. Oliver didn't like it. He didn't like the way the man had behaved with her. He didn't like that gleam in his eyes. He didn't like that it put her in any more jeopardy at all.

"I don't understand one thing," her voice broke through his thoughts, the burn slowly calming. "I know you are keeping something from me, and I am mad about it, don't get me wrong. But why are you not telling me?"

Oliver had promised himself he wouldn't lie to her except without omission. He put his glass down. "It's better if you don't know."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard."

"It's the truth."

She leaned forward suddenly, a fire blazing in her blue eyes, a fire he slowly felt under his skin, a fire he hadn't seen even as she'd talked her father down.

"I'll tell you the truth, mister," she said, her anger glazing her features. "I knew without ever seeing you shirtless where you have burn marks on your back. That's the truth. I came to your room and you were burning up and gasping in pain. You asked me to kiss you and I did and your fever went down and the pain left. That's the truth. I'm on a date with a man I've barely met but know better than I know my computers. That's the truth. So don't you _dare_ talk about truth with me, Oliver, when all you've been doing is hiding it."

Oliver clenched his jaw, his hand fisting in his lap as she stood up, looking down at him, her fury rolling off her in waves. "I like you, Oliver. More than that. God knows why, there's something between us neither of us are denying. Had you not known what was happening between us, I would have been absolutely okay with it. But you know."

Oliver stared up at her, willing her to understand even as he knew he couldn't ask her to, that she was right. But he stayed silent, letting her vent. 

Her eyes narrowed. "You know, and I don't and that's what's not okay, Oliver. So, there are two ways this thing can play out. One- you tell me whatever you know, or at least give me a solid reason why you won't."

His chest tightened. "Or?"

She sighed, deflating, pinching her nose. "Nothing. I need a clear head to think about this. I'm going to bed now."

Oliver stood up, ready to walk her back, but she shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "You know, this is going to sound so crazy, and not to mention cliched, but I had a dream last night."

He saw her eyes soften as she remembered, her head tilted back as she blinked up at him, her hand finding his wrist, her thumb brushing over his erratic pulse, his heart skidding with the motion of her fingers.

"It's so stupid, but I saw you in the dream," she spoke softly. "Only you were more rugged, more tanned. Your hair was a little longer. I saw the same way you turned me around into the kiss on the deck last night. Except we were already on the island."

Oliver's heart stopped, as he heard her talk. She shook her head. "It wasn't really us. Sara is right. I have romanticized the legend of the island. The dream was basically the legend. Except you were The Albatross and I was the woman. And we were kissing on the island. And I woke up because someone interrupted us, like Sara did on the deck."

He was barely breathing, his breath trapped in his throat, chest tightening, the burn expanding over it. His heart pounded.

She went on, oblivious to how everything inside him had shifted with her innocent confession.

"The reason I'm telling you this is because what I felt in the dream is exactly what I feel when I'm with you," she said, squeezing his wrist once before pulling away. "All I need is an explanation, because I'm losing my mind here." 

Oliver looked down at her, tracing her ear with a finger, before rubbing it softly. "I need some time."

Felicity nodded, stepping back. "Good night, Oliver."

Feeling her disappointment, Oliver stayed put and watched her walk away, clenching his hand into fists by his side to stop from going after her, from pulling her into his embrace. He needed to make sense of what was happening. Why was she dreaming their memories? What the hell had the kiss changed? They had kissed in so many lifetimes, why this? Why here? Why now? Was it because he had never been so close to breaking the curse before? Or was it something else? And did her dreaming meant she would remember every life? Every death? Or was it a one time thing?

Mind racing with questions, Oliver stepped out of the dining hall, and went up to the deck in his nightly ritual.

Only, he wasn't alone.

His body burned with the man's presence before Oliver had even turned. And in that moment, another possibility hit his gut. Could it be possible that the kiss last night had changed things, for both of them, because her father had witnessed it? Just like their very first kiss, right before they had been cursed? Could it be? 

"I told you to stay away from my daughter," the man spoke from behind Oliver. 

Oliver turned, pushing his hands in his pockets, coolly leveling the older man with his gaze. The dark eyes locked on his, that uneasy gleam still there. The wind gently soothed his burning skin, the sound of the water lapping at the ship cooling down his hatred. 

"And I told you to make me," Oliver replied back in the same tone. 

The man laughed, the amusement never reaching his eyes, all pretenses vanished. "Even after so long, you doubt I can stop you?"

Oliver spoke, all veneer of pretense gone. "I do. Because despite your best efforts, we always seem to come together." 

"And she is always taken away."

Oliver tilted his head in speculation, wheels in his head whirring, as realization dawned upon him. "You don't have any powers now, do you?" The man's face darkened as his words hit a nerve. Oliver continued. "That's why you're going to the island."

"I may not have the power, but the curse does. Or has your skin stopped burning?"

Hatred filled every single pore in his body. He took a menacing step forward, letting his rage fill his eyes, the burn inflamed under his skin. 

"One day in the very near future," Oliver spoke in a soft, low voice, his entire being loathing the man before him. "I am going to set you on fire and watch every limb in your body burn to ash while you scream from pain."

The man took a step back, shaking his head. "Only if you ever break the curse."

Oliver stayed silent. 

"I know your weakness, Oliver Queen," the man spoke, pushing his hands in his pockets. "Even though you have changed names, you are still the pirate who came to shore with my daughter."

Having had enough, Oliver stepped away, choosing to walk away now before the did something like bash the man's skull and throw him overboard. He almost reached the door when the Captain's voice came to him, from behind. 

"You are cursed for eternity, Albatross. And even if you know how to, you will never be able to break the curse."

Oliver walked down, his flesh burning, with rage and hatred, the dark chuckle of the man following him, along with the words that, for some reason, never stopped ringing in his ears. 

_"Even if you know how to, you will never be able to break the curse."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	10. Williwaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I apologize for not updating this story sooner. But thank you so much for the remarkable patience and love you have shown this story. It's so incredible! :) Since I'm back to updating, this story will be updated every Monday/Tuesday (can't specify which). So weekly! Yes? Yes. :)
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> Here is the next chapter. Stuff happens. Hope you enjoy it. I'm slightly nervous about it for some weird reason. 
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Poster by the lovely [Sarah](http://cherrychapssstick.tumblr.com)

 

* * *

 

_The house burned. Flames licked into the brick and mortar, soaring high up into the dark, obsidian sky before wrapping around the small cottage as a mother wrapped around her new born._

_He felt it's heat searing over his skin, soot and sweat mingling on his flesh as he ran around the house, trying to find a point of entry. Shouts echoed from behind him, but all he could hear were her cries for help from inside, her screams as she tried to find a way to reach him._

_He ran and ran around circles, his eyes wet and tears streaming down his face at the fire singed and burned his skin. People tried to stop him, tried to get into his path but he still ran like a frenzied wolf losing its mate, unable to stop the destruction._

_He screamed, cried, begged and pleaded to anyone who would listen. And almost as though in reply, wind whipped around the clearing and flames parted, giving him the opening he'd needed to slip inside. He didn't know how he'd get her out. He didn't know how he'd get them out. He just needed to reach her._

_The house he'd built with his own hands for her crumpled around him, but the panic in his heart welled from her silence instead. She'd stopped screaming. She'd stopped crying. And that made him cry as he ran and ran around, towards the kitchen where he'd last heard her._

_And he dropped to his knees, his jaw trembling as a scream of pain wrenched itself out from the depths of his soul, the agony inside his body unbearable as he gazed as where she lay in front of him, surrounded by flames, eyes closed._

_Sobs wrenched themselves out of him as he crawled to her._

_She was gone. He felt it in ever fiber of his being. He felt it in her still body. He felt it in the hollow of his heart._

_She was gone. And he lay down beside her, holding her in his arms, his hand resting on her swollen belly, on the life they'd created, the life, that like her, was gone._

_He closed his eyes._

* * *

 

The loud groan from his own throat made him jerk right up in bed. 

Sweat coated his skin even under the high speed fan, the conditioned air sending a shiver down his spine as his body quivered in his fever, his breathing heavy just as it had been for every single night of his life. Oliver stared at his shaking hands, something inside him weary and torn over the lifetimes of pain he had lived every night he closed his eyes, and the lifetime of agony he'd felt every waking moment. He was exhausted, _so, so exhausted._ So tired of knowing sleep never offered oblivion from the nightmare that lived under his skin. So tired of pretending he wasn't burning alive from the inside with every breath. So tired of fighting it, of being unable to accept it for what it was. He couldn't lie to himself. There had been times death had been almost inviting, the idea of relief so lush. But death wouldn't be a relief from the curse. It'd just carry over in the next life, and the next and for an eternity.

His body shook. He hadn't slept in so long. So, so long. He hadn't just lay down and closed his eyes in so long. And yet, despite all that, the only relief he knew was that she slept, undisturbed and content, far away from nightmares and visions of death, with her soft skin cool and her life untarnished. For that one simple thing, that knowledge that she slept a few doors down in slumber without horror, Oliver would gladly wake up every single night covered in sweat with his flesh on fire.   

He stared at the marks around his wrist, the marks of her fingers carried on his body through the ages, almost like her brand, circling it with his own and taking a deep, relaxing breath. He closed his eyes, like he'd done when he'd been at the orphanage, all alone with his pain, and felt the ridges where the mark rested. Touching it had always made him feel a tug in his heart. It still did the same, the tug deeper, more intense, calming his pounding heart. 

A loud knock on his door made him freeze, and turn towards it. 

"Oliver?" Digg's voice came from the other side, heavy and worried. "Oliver? Wake up!"

Getting down from the bed in a quick movement, Oliver scooped up the black t-shirt he'd tossed over the chair earlier in the night, and pulled it over his torso, taking quick steps towards the door, the burn quietly present in his body. It was barely 3 in the morning and Digg was not a man to get worried over nothing. Something was wrong. 

The weight heavy in his gut, Oliver swiftly reached the door just as Digg knocked again, and pulled it open, to see the other man dressed haphazardly, as though he too had put his clothes on in a hurry, his brows deeply furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Oliver asked the moment the door opened, his heart thudding as sweat beaded over his brow. 

"It's Felicity."

The words were barely out of Digg's mouth before Oliver was sprinting down the corridor towards her cabin, aware of Digg right behind him, a dozen scenarios playing in his head like they did every night in his dreams, the thought, the mere idea of the curse somehow having taken her from him instinctively rejected by his mind even as it took root. He knew the curse had changed a bit. He could feel it in the intensity of his burn every second, feel it in the lead in his gut. The curse had changed, but had he somehow, by involving her, had moved up the timeline and put her in more danger? Had the curse already lashed out at her? He'd never forgive himself if it had. Not that he could even now.

The dark corridors stayed asleep as the two men quietly made their way to her room, the moonlight filtering in through small windows at the ends, lighting the way. 

Oliver turned the final corner at the right and stood in front of her door, pushing it open without a word, his heart hammering at the uncertainty of what he'd find as the burn suddenly flared brighter, almost as though in warning. 

He pushed open the door, and his eyes locked with cold, dark ones a moment later.

The burn singed across his flesh like wildfire. 

The Captain stood silently beside the bed, along with Sara and Roy. Oliver removed his eyes from the man even as his entire body urged him to destroy him, and lowered his gaze to the bed, his heart stopping. 

Felicity lay in the bed, almost exactly like she had when he'd pulled her out of water, pale and unconscious. Except she'd been quiet then. She was whimpering now, her brows furrowing, her body fidgeting on the bed. 

He took a step inside the already crowded room, his eyes never moving from her form even as his hands fisted beside him, the fire licking right under his skin from proximity to both the man and her. Sweat rolled down his back, gluing his t-shirt to his body, setting the fever under his skin to levels unbearable to any other man. 

"What happened?" he asked quietly, his voice not belying an ounce of his pain. 

"I don't know," Sara replied, her voice worried and slightly scared. "I heard her from across the hall, screaming for her father. She seemed to be in a nightmare so I tried waking her up, but she wouldn't wake. Just kept screaming for him. To stop."

Like she had screamed on the beach hundreds of years ago.

The rage that never really slept slammed into him with full force, and he clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes on her sleeping form. 

"Then?" he grit out. 

"I asked Roy to call Jay. He came but she still wouldn't wake. And then she started muttering your name," Sara informed him, her voice shaking slightly. "Why isn't she waking?"

Oliver finally raised his eyes to where she stood with Roy, and saw the two people who cared for his Felicity with their hearts. It cooled some of his anger to realize there were people in the room who loved her enough to die for her. It simmered his fury enough for him to move his eyes back to where the Captain stood, every ounce of hate in every cell of his body raging. 

Oliver didn't hide any of it from the man, watched him with brutal eyes and spoke. 

"Get out."

He felt the others in the room still at his words, saw the rage in the other man's eye flare, but he didn't give an inch. The only person who could make him kneel lay behind the evil monster on a bed. 

"This is my ship," the man ground out in a rough, trembling voice. "And my daughter."

Oliver cracked his neck, every muscle in his body tensed, coiled, ready to drag the man and throw him out by his neck. He didn't say a word, just stared back at him. 

"I'm not going anywhere."

And something inside Oliver, something that had been waiting for hundreds of years for retribution, flared to life. Before anyone could blink, Oliver grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him into the wall, his movement sharp and quick, the gasps behind him loud and surprised as the man in front of him struggled to escape the grip Oliver had around his neck.

Oliver flexed his fingers tighter, the burn slashing across his skin in a frenzy at being so close to the evil man, but he didn't move an inch, glaring down at those cold eyes that had cursed his own daughter, baring his teeth at him in a mark of a hunter.

"You don't have any power right now," he uttered in a low, hard voice, his hatred searing as fiercely as the burn. "So you listen to me, and listen carefully."

When the man stopped struggling, trying to gasp air in, Oliver spoke. "Even if you do have any power left, you use it on me. Not her. Don't even dare to think about it. You stay away from her. You even breathe wrong in her direction," he crushed the man's windpipe slightly, "and you'll find out exactly what I am capable of."

The Captain choked slightly. "You can't kill me."

Oliver curled his lip slightly. "No. But I can make you wish for death, over and over and over again." He leaned in his face, gritting his teeth. "Just give me a reason to prove how many ways I can make you bleed without letting you die."

"Oliver," Felicity's mumbled, distressed voice took a hold of his attention. He pushed away from the man. "Leave." 

The Captain straightened to his full height, his eyes even more hateful than they'd been back then. 

"I will make you burn for this."

Oliver scoffed at that as the man left, before turning to see the other, all watching him with speculative looks in their eyes. He inclined his head towards them.

"Would you mind leaving the room too?" he asked politely, feeling the burn itch into his muscles. 

The fact that all three of them nodded and left the room without a question, leaving him alone with Felicity, told him how much they trusted him now. Feeling oddly good about that, only because these people mattered to her, and by extension to him, Oliver watched them all leave and close the door behind them. 

Taking a deep, quiet breath, he sat beside her on the bed, the burn spreading over his limbs, over his chest, burning his heart as he watched her squirm, her brows knit in distress. 

Swallowing, his heart pounding as his mind raced with possibilities of what was happening to her, he raised a hand and brushed the strands of light hair away from her face as softly as he could, the shadows from the lamp light falling on her cheeks, making hollows into her skin. 

"No," she muttered and shook her head. "No. No. Oliver."

"Felicity," he muttered to her, brushing her hair back softly, exposing her ear to his fingers. He looked at the soft shell she'd pierced to keep the ghost of his touch with her, looked at her and felt his heart clench. He wished he could give her the answers. He wished he could give her the relief. But what he could give her was himself. She'd never suffer alone like he had, not as long as he had a breath in his body. He would rather take all the burn for himself that let any even singe her hair. He would if he could. But he couldn't, because like it or not, they were in this together. They had always been. 

And though he was grateful for it, he'd never understood why she had never remembered. 

He looked at the soft shell, and slowly, with the rough pad of his finger, he touched it. 

The burn exploded in his body with that one touch, punishing him for taking it. Oliver flinched, his spine curving as the pain doubled him over, panting loudly as he grit his teeth, trapping the scream in his throat. 

Felicity whimpered, and he took her ear between his fingers, rubbing it in a motion echoed through the centuries, rendering it timeless. He'd been a captain once rubbing her year as she'd stood with dark hair on his ship. It didn't matter what he was or what she was. They were. Just they. 

He felt Felicity quieten slowly, her face settling into slumber. Oliver burned beside her, but didn't let go. 

For long, long minutes, he could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears and the sounds of waves lapping on the ship. For long, long minutes, he could feel nothing but his own flesh trying to clamor out of his skin and away from the fire. For long, long minutes, her did nothing but hold her ear and stay bent over his own self as he tried to breathe and control it. 

"Oliver?"

The sound of her voice softly calling his name made him close his eyes for a brief second, letting that simple but precious sound sink deep, deep into his memories as he savored it, before he opened his eyes to look at her. 

And his eyes locked with clear blue. 

She lay awake on the bed, looking up at him through open, intelligent eyes that saw more than anyone could ever know, her lips slightly parted as she gazed up at him. Oliver didn't know what she saw. Was it the sweat soaking his stubble? Or the half-crazed look in his eyes? Or the grimace on his face? 

 _"It hurts when I touch you?"_ she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes luminous as pain for his pain lit deep within them. Her eyes had always betrayed her deep capacity to feel, her heart bare for anyone to see. Or maybe it had just been for him. 

He shook his head. "No. It hurts when _I_ touch _you._ "

He saw moisture pool in her eyes, for his pain, her lips pressing together tightly before she took a deep breath. "My touch doesn't hurt?"

He shook his head.

Felicity gazed up at him for a second, before raising her hand and placing it on his wrist, wrapping her fingers around her brand. His heart stopped before beating with a vengeance, the burn not cooling down but not flaring any brighter either. 

He watched her watch him quietly, her eyes going from understanding to observant to speculative within the space of seconds. She tilted her head slightly to the right, almost as if considering a thought, before raising herself up on her elbows, her hand never moving from his wrist, the blanket pooling around her breasts as she arched her neck up, and pressed her lips against his. 

The burn flickered, flaring for a second. 

She brushed his lips with hers. The burn dimmed. Almost to negligible. 

Oliver's body shuddered with the sudden relief, and she pulled back, blinking wide eyes up at him. "Better?" 

Oliver looked deep into her eyes, into those eyes that looked turquoise in the shadows, and felt his heart bind itself to her breaths in a way it hadn't before, in a manner it never had before. 

"Don't do that again, Felicity," he told her quietly. 

She blinked in confusion. "Why not?"

He sighed. "Because I don't want you to kiss me to relieve some kind of pain. I can't use you like that."

"I don't do charity kisses, mister," she rolled her eyes, before raising herself up again, smacking one loudly on his lips. "I don't know what your deal is, Oliver. But I kiss you because I want to. Because for some reason seeing you in pain makes me feel like I'm being ripped to shreds on the inside. Because feeling how you hurt makes me want to wail. So I'm not just doing this to make you feel better. For some reason you won't tell me about, you feeling better is connected to me feeling better."

His heart ached, the burn slowly simmering back again after the temporary reprieve. He swallowed. 

"Tell me about your dream," he told her.

"Tell me about my reality," she countered. 

He wanted to. The temptation to share his worries, his fears, his hopes with someone, with her was so acute it made his throat tighten. He'd been alone in this all his life. Alone in his dreams. Alone in his reality. And the urge to tell her was so profound in that moment. And as much as he wanted to protect her, he knew it was moot with the curse still upon them. As much as he hated it, he'd have to tell her. 

But not right now. 

He took a deep breath. "I will tell you."

Her breath hitched.

"But not tonight. I just... need some time to figure some things out to tell you everything."

Felicity searched his eyes for a few moments, checking for his sincerity perhaps, before nodding. "Okay. I can work with that."

A breath he hadn't been aware of holding rushed out of him. "Now tell me about the dream."

She took a deep breath, turning her eyes down to his hand, and spoke. "I haven't told anyone this. It's weird."

Oliver waited patiently, letting her mutter to herself, before she shook her head once, a determined little set to her chin, and spoke, her eyes on his fingers.

"The dreams started a few days before the trip. It's the same dream, always the same dream, but always in chunks, like watching scenes of a movie without seeing the whole movie at once."

His heart started pounding at the words, memories of how his own dreams had started accosting him, and the burn flamed higher under his skin. 

"At first it was so disjointed, I never gave it much thought," she shrugged lightly. "I thought it was because of the trip that i was dreaming of beaches and legends. Except things changed. I started seeing you. Us. On the beach. Kissing and being interrupted. The dreams always ended with the interruption."

Oliver knew what she was going to say before she spoke, the knots in his gut tight, a sour taste filling his mouth.

"Tonight," she murmured quietly, "was the first time I saw more."

Oliver swallowed the bile in his throat. "What did you see?"

A shiver wracked her tiny frame, and his protective instincts flared. He turned his hand in hers, bringing them palm to palm, her hand small, fragile against his rough, broad one as he tangled their fingers together, squeezing softly even as the damned burn condemned his flesh more and more intensely. 

"My father. Killing us."

His jaw clenched so hard his teeth gnashed. He'd never wanted her to witness it. He would have told her, removing all the painful parts, but he'd never wanted her to see. 

"Felicity-" he said and a knock on the door interrupted. 

"Um, guys?" Digg's voice interrupted. 

Oliver and Felicity shared a look, neither of them untangling their fingers as Felicity called out. "Come in, Digg."

The other man opened the door, his eyes coming to Oliver and inclined his head. "There's been some kind of accident in the mechanical room. Would you mind?"

Oliver shook his head, looking down at Felicity. "Sleep. Call me if you need anything."

She smiled, her eyes shadowed. "My hero."

Oliver tucked the blankets around her, the burn back to where it had been when he'd entered the room. He walked to the door, and one last look at her, walked out with Digg towards the crisis.

* * *

 

 _The Mysticus_ was going to stop for a day on an island in the Gulf near Cozumel, for supplies and some minor repairs, to give the crew and everyone some breathing room on the land before continuing on their voyage at midnight.  

Oliver walked out of the dining hall after breakfast, tired after having absolutely no sleep the previous night, trying to help the crew fix one of the machines than had fallen over. He had no idea what the machine actually did, but since it had been important, he'd done what he could and returned to his room to take a quick shower before heading for breakfast. 

Now, all done, burn right under his skin in place, he headed towards his cabin to catch a few hours of sleep if he could before they reached the shore. 

He turned in his corridor, the sunlight pouring in through the many windows lining the sides, bright and warm on his overheated flesh. 

Almost ten steps away from his door, he stopped, the hair on his nape prickling as his senses stilled in alertness, his body tensing, his gut telling him something was off. 

Slowly, cautiously, keeping his eyes peeled open, Oliver removed a Swiss knife from the back pocket of his jeans, and moved towards the door, his heart not pounding but calm, cool and controlled like he'd trained himself to be. Adrenaline flushed through his system and he reached his door, looking on either side before slowly, carefully, unlocking it. 

He pushed the door open, and stood there, his body freezing. 

His entire room had been trashed, the chair upturned, drawers pulled open and smashed down on the floor, the mattress ripped and sheets shredded, his clothes lying all over the place and his bags empty, his laptop smashed beside the table. 

Oliver looked around the room carefully for any sign of the intruder's presence, before letting the anger flood his system, letting his eyes rove all over the place, and coming to a stop at a piece of paper under his laptop. 

Inching forward, he dropped down on his haunches, and plucked the paper out, turning it over and reading the words, his burn quivering with a fever. 

He read the words and rage filled him, his hands shaking as the need to break bones overwhelmed him.

He read the words and locked his jaw, his burn peaking to heights in his enraged state. 

He read the words, before tearing the paper to pieces, the words ringing in his head on a loop.

 _'Last time it was her body for the sharks. This time it will be pieces. Save her this time and your pieces will die with hers. She will die.'_  

Someone had just numbered their breaths.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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